Forlorn

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TEMPLE OF TIME: BOOK 3: FORLORN By Jane Toombs Chapter 1 Wilda heard the correct pattern of knocks at the door to Renz's tower and hurried to open it. A hooded figure slipped inside, hissed at her to shut the door, then threw back the hood. Wilda stared at the pale face of Petra, Renz's would-be lover. "The Mizpa tribunal vote has been cast," Petra said. "Is he packed to leave?" "If he is, he hasn't told me." Petra took a deep breath, opened her mouth and yelled, "Renz, you fool, the guards will be here any minute!" A tall, darkly handsome man in a midnight blue robe materialized beside the two women. "No need to shout, I am far from deaf." Petra scowled at him. "The tribunal found you guilty of dark sorcery, and you know very well what that means." He shrugged. "They don't dare kill me." Petra grunted her disbelief. "If you don't care about your own skin, consider Wilda's plight. She's known to be your assistant." "Ah, yes, the reluctant little witch." He half-smiled. Wilda glared at him. She didn't actually hate this sinister mage she'd had no choice but to become apprenticed to. Still, he certainly wasn't her favorite person. He was supposed to be helping her hone her talents--instead, he usually made a practice of belittling them. She couldn't understand what Petra found desirable about Renz. Wilda respected his considerable expertise as a mage, but she'd begun to fear that some of his spells verged on dark sorcery. Obviously the tribunal thought so, too. "I don't think he cares what becomes of me," she told Petra. "He blasted well better care what becomes of us all," Petra said, "because I sense guards approaching the tower." "Cease this nattering," Renz growled. He closed his eyes, spoke words Wilda didn't recognize, but filed away, all the while weaving his hands in intricate patterns she strove hard to remember. After a time, Renz opened his eyes and gestured toward the door. "Leave, both of you. Now."

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"My belongings..." Wilda broke off as he shoved her toward the door. He pulled a pouch from his robe, dropped some coins in her hand and opened the door. Though the sun had shone earlier, now heavy mist swirled into the tower and a dense fog obscured everything outside. Petra grabbed Wilda's free hand, pulled her through the door and along a path invisible to the younger woman. Hearing a clinking that sounded very much like guards' armor, Wilda stifled any impulse to speak. The fog seemed to hinder their passage, seemed to be trying to push them back, but Petra plunged relentlessly on, pulling Wilda with her. How could the older woman possibly tell where they were headed? On and on they stumbled, until at last the tendrils of mist thinned and let them go. Wilda saw they were near the outskirts of Mizpa. She looked a question at Petra. "Best we separate," Petra told her. "Take what he gave you and buy a cloak with a hood to hide your hair. Never doubt the guards will search for you as well as Renz." "What about you?" "'Tis well known I'm a warrior as well as a far-seer, but despite this I intend to lay low for awhile. As for you--in my opinion Renz taught you little because he sensed you had powers that could become greater than his. You'd do well to disappear entirely in case those of the tribunal can sense what Renz did." With that, Petra hurried away. Confused by Petra's parting words--powers greater than Renz?--Wilda shook her head. He couldn't be right. But, since she was known as his assistant, to disappear was the only way to survive . Wilda tried to think of what to do. Buying a cloak was easily enough accomplished once she ventured farther into the city, but then what? She'd come from Ely, a far off outer province, and had no friends or relatives in Mizpa. Once she had the disguising cloak, should she try to find a way to return to where she came from? Where they hated and feared her? No, impossible. She looked at the coins still clutched in her fist to be sure they added up to enough for a decent cloak and saw among them a gem stone, an amethyst. Renz never did anything accidentally or without reason, but she hadn't a clue why he given her this. She slid the amethyst into an inner pocket and the coins into an outer one. Nervous and wary, she headed into the city, wondering if Renz had also left the tower. She presumed he had, since he was no fool, black sorcerer or not. She wished she had a few of his abilities, for there was no doubt he'd be able to hide himself far better than she was able to. Disappear, Petra said. But how? She knew no spell to make herself invisible and shapeshifting was too iffy, especially since she didn't remember how she'd done it that once. She hadn't changed shape since she left Ely. More accurately, since she fled the province in fear for her life. The folk there, her father included, wanted nothing to do with a woman who could change into a beast. She hadn't known she could when it happened, and was as surprised as the three louts who were trying to rape her. Not too surprised to retaliate--one of them had lost a man's most prized possession.

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But none of that was any help at the moment. Citizens of the city wouldn't care to have a beast padding along the streets of Mizpa, even if she could recall exactly how she'd managed the change. What she needed most was the hooded cloak Petra had urged her to buy. Some ordinary women did have dark hair that peaked in the middle of their foreheads, but only true witches bore the tell-tale white streaks to either side of the peak. Ordinarily, a witch wouldn't be persecuted in the city, but if guards were after Renz, they'd be searching for his assistant as well, so no witch was safe tonight. Covering her hair was imperative. Wilda breathed a sigh of relief when she came on what she recognized as a thieves' market—folding tables set up near an alley so the tables, the goods on them and the sellers could vanish quickly if needed. She shuffled through the piled clothing until she found the only hooded cloak for sale, one of black velvet. Though she loved the feel of the velvet in her hands, she really needed a more utilitarian one, so she hesitated and was about to put it back, when the woman behind the table spoke. "Give ye good price, meda. One topa only." Though she knew she could drive the price down by haggling, one topa was reasonable. And the sooner she covered up her tell-tale hair, the better. She selected one topa from her pocket, handed the coin to the woman, picked up the cloak and donned it, covering her head with the hood. Evidently the woman the velvet cloak had been stolen from had been tall, as she was, for it fit well. "Best keep off the streets, meda," the woman said. "Thick be the guards this eve." No need to put on an act; the woman had seen her hair. "I heed your warning," Wilda told her. Heeding it would be easier if she had any place to go that was off the streets. The alleys, haunts of thieves and worse, were unsafe and, as a woman alone, she feared to venture inside an inn. As she walked away, she tried to think of some place in Mizpa where she could hide until true darkness. What part did most folk avoid that would be safe enough for a lone woman? Unable to come up with any better idea, she decided to head for the more affluent section. Not because she thought it a good place to hide, but she reasoned the guards would feel the same and so be fewer there. She passed a food seller and bought a meat pie, eating as she strode along as though she knew where she was going. Luckily she'd been working in the garden before Petra came, so still had her boots on rather than her soft inside slippers. After a while, she realized the street she'd chosen led to a place no one wished to go—the Temple Of Time—and veered away. No hiding places there unless you went inside, and no one in their right mind would willingly do that. She cut a corner short and tripped over the legs of a man leaning against a building. In struggling to keep her balance, the hood slipped back and, oh, megrim horrors, the man was a guard. Before she could gather herself to flee, he grabbed her and shouted for help. Two other guards came running.

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"She's a witch, no doubt about that," the first guard said. "Think she's the one?" "The tribunal will know," the second said. The third whipped out a knife. "Best clip off her hair so she can't work her spells on us afore we get her there." Two held her while the third sheared off most of her long dark hair with his knife. Then she was forced to watch him burn it, feeling her talent ebb with the stench of the burning hair. "Not a bad looker even with no hair," the first said. "Don't go thinking to tup her," the third warned. "They got teeth in there where no teeth belong." The first winced and covered his crotch with his hand. "Heard that, but thought 'twas a tale." "No tale. Truth. Tell you Zaner's sad story while we trot her over to the tribunal. Seems he was in the woods north of the city one day, and he comes across..." Wilda tuned out his voice as she was marched along between two of the guards. Whatever happened to Zaner, he deserved it, like all men. In her case, this business of teeth in her woman's parts wasn't true, and she suspected no witch truly had teeth there. But the belief was certainly to the advantage of all witches. If such a belief had traveled as far as Ely, those louts would never have touched her, she wouldn't have shifted shape and her father wouldn't have turned her out of the house. Ely was so backward they didn't know what the white streaks in her hair signified. Even she hadn't until she came to Mizpa. She'd learned much since arriving in the city, but little of it from Renz, even though he'd accepted her as an assistant. But who would believe that? She tried to keep to her feet as they hurried her on, thinking she'd escaped the threat of rape, only to face--what? Death, most likely, if the tribunal could identify her as connected with Renz. ***~ *** Two members of the tribunal were present in the judging chamber. Her heart sank when she recognized one of them. He stared at her for a long moment and nodded his head. "'Tis Wilda, Renz's apprentice. The three of you will split the reward for her capture. First, though, her head must be completely shaved." "Shave her head afore we take her to the dungeons?" "No, no. This is one witch we don't want around." "Kill her now?" "Can't take the risk. We all know dead dark sorcerers come back as blood takers--even if we burn the bodies. Being his apprentice, like enough she knows his dark secrets. Can't chance a blood-taker in the city. Shave her head, take her to the Temple Of Time, shove her inside, then guard the entrance for thirteen days and nights to see she doesn't come back out. If she tries, push her back in." Her head shaved, Wilda felt the last feeble dregs of her power vanish as they dragged her toward the Temple of Time—a place where no one who entered ever

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returned, even though some said it was possible. Yet that Verbot Virgin didn't come back. Nor the bastard prince and the guards sent in after him. The Goddess only knew what waited for her inside that dreadful place. She might well wish they'd killed her instead. Witches didn't come back from the dead as blood-takers, only dark sorcerers did. But 'twould've been no use to tell them Renz had taught her nothing dark. Though 'twas the truth, who'd believe her? All too soon the Temple loomed before her, its numerous steps leading up to the opaque dark shimmer of the entrance. She sagged in terror, but the two guards didn't hesitate. Carrying her between them, they climbed up and up, then shoved her so forcefully against that sinister shimmer that she tumbled and sprawled on her face inside. ***~*** For a time Wilda lay where she was. Finally gathering enough courage to move, she got up, looked around and blinked in disbelief. No rooms of any kind, nothing but a countryside before her. Night had been falling in Mizpa, here the sun was at the zenith. She glanced behind her and found from this side she could see through the entrance shimmer. Two guards with lanterns had taken up positions on the stairs. She sighed and looked again at the land before her. Across a meadow where wild-flowers grew, sunlight gleamed on the water of a river. On the river's opposite side, tall trees rose to form a woods. This was the inside of the Temple of Time? She took a tentative step toward the meadow, then another and another. Ahead of her a white ahver rose from the branch of a sapling and took wing, flying away from her. Nothing looked threatening In the midst of the meadow, exhaustion caught up with Wilda. She stopped, took off her velvet cloak, spread it out and eased down on it to rest, hugging herself as tremors coursed through her despite the warmth of the sun. Was she really safe for the moment? Deciding to believe she was, for she was so tired she couldn't go on anyway, when her shaking eased, she stretched out on the cloak and closed her eyes. She woke with a start, sitting up and staring about, uncertain for a bit where she was. Not the meadows of Ely, oh, no, this was the unknown land no one returned from. The sun had started down the sky, so she knew she'd slept longer than she'd meant to. Rising, she laid the cloak over her arm and headed for the river. When she neared, she noticed a small footbridge crossing to the other side. Definitely not Ely, the land of no bridges, where all rivers and streams had to be forded. Undecided whether or not to cross, she noticed red fruit hanging from the branches of several trees on the other side. Obviously there were no sellers of meatpies or any other food around, she'd have to fend for herself. The fruit would be a good start. She stepped onto the wooden bridge. She was halfway across when she heard a growl. Before she could decide what to do, the ugliest creature she'd ever seen leaped from the water onto the bridge in front of her. A troll! A scream stuck in her throat and she backed away as it reached for her with long, clawed fingers. It gave a ghastly chuckle and lunged at her. Suddenly, before the troll grabbed her, something swooped down, lifted her into the air and flew with

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her to the other side of the river, setting her down near the woods, and settling beside her. When she saw what the flying creature was, she howled with fear. A draig! Be still. I am Vorst, your friend. I won't harm you. Draigs didn't talk, she told herself as she cowered away from the huge beast. Where were the words coming from? Vorst is unlike other draigs. Blanca told me you were headed for trouble and so I came to you. After swallowing, Wilda stammered, "B-Blanca?" Blanca is a magic white ahver. We are connected to each other. Wilda remember seeing a white ahver. She realized she was hearing the draig's words in her mind, not with her ears, and, though still afraid, decided that, since he hadn't yet tried to eat her up, he might not mean to. Though green and scaly, like pictures she'd seen of draigs, this one didn't have yellow eyes with slit pupils, he had amethyst eyes with pupils as round as hers. I have told you my name, will you tell me yours? "Wilda." Did you not know trolls live under bridges? "I thought it a tale in a book." Blanca said you'd need minding. If you'll climb on my back, I'll fly you to where I live. She'll join us there. Climb onto a draig's back? Never! "How do I know you're not going to take me to your cave and eat me?" Vorst doesn't eat humans. Neither does he lie. How can I believe a draig? But Wilda found her fear ebbing. She remembered the amethyst Renz had given her. Maybe this meant she should trust this draig with amethyst eyes. After all, he had saved her from a troll who did intend to eat her. If Vorst had wanted her for dinner, like enough she'd have been inside him being digested by now. You don't know this land and there are many perils. With Blanca's help, Vorst will keep you safe. "Why bother about me?" Blanca is magic and she says you're a witch. "Not with my hair shaved off." Blanca says human hair grows back. True. But she had no power until it did and desperately needed help until then. Trusting a draig connected to a white ahver seemed a strange choice, but no one else had offered. Inching closer to him, she reached a tentative hand and touched his side. Unlike the cold and slimy feel she'd expected, his scales were warm and, similar to velvet, smooth if stroked the right way. That feels good. Only then did she realize she was actually stroking his side. Withdrawing her hand, she wondered how she'd get onto his back if she did decide to go with him. My scales provide handholds and footholds to climb up to my back.

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Was he reading her mind? Did it matter if he was? Realizing she had very little, if any, choice, and hoping she wouldn't regret it, she eased into her cloak, took a deep breath and, clutching at his scales, hauled herself up onto his back, settling between where his wings sprouted. She gasped and flung herself face down as the huge wings lifted and he ran ahead to get momentum to rise. Haven't dropped a passenger yet. A draig with a sense of humor? But after they were airborne, she realized how smooth the ride was and recovered enough to decide she might survive after all. We'll soon reach the Kingdom of Asra. Since there was no way she make him hear her voice, she decided to think at him to see if he could read her mind. "Is that where you live?" As she silently mouthed the words, she tried to project them into his mind. Except for far-off sea caves, the only decent caves to be found in this land are in Asra. Draigs need caves. "So you can read my mind," she muttered aloud. Only when you direct thoughts at me. She discovered it wasn't all that difficult to think at him. I'll be safe in Asra? He didn't respond for so long she thought the question hadn't gotten through and was about to repeat it when his words formed in her mind. You, yes. Blanca and I believe so. So maybe she would be safe, and maybe she wouldn't be. Which was pretty much as it had been for most of her life. She repeated his words in her mind. Was he implying she might be safe but he and the ahver wouldn't be? What about you and Blanca? Her magic keeps Blanca is safe wherever she goes. I'm safe in my cave from the knights who hunt draigs. Wilda knew that was why no draigs survived in Tonapa, except maybe one or two in the far, far provinces where no humans lived. To her, Vorst was like a picture in a story book come alive. Except he didn't seem quite as scary as the old tales about draigs. Blanca says it is meant you came to Asra. I know not why. That makes two of us. She must be a far-seer like Petra." Far-seer? No, Blanca's magic lets her know connections, but not always what lies ahead. So I may not be safe in Asra. Vorst will keep you safe! His words reverberated in her mind as though he'd shouted them. If he could keep her safe, it'd be the first time anyone had accomplished that feat. No human before you ever touched Vorst with a caring stroke. I will never let anyone harm you." His words warmed Wilda—and also frightened her. She hadn't meant her touch to be caring, and, while it was true she needed a friend, how could it be possible for a draig to be any human's friend?

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Chapter 2

Though Vorst glided as gently as he could manage to the bank of the river near his cave, he heard Wilda's frightened gasp, and it made him feel bad. She wasn't like other humans he'd encountered. At the moment he'd felt her hand stroking his side, he understood what Blanca had meant by connection. True, draigs and humans were very different, but so were ahvers different from draigs. Yet he and Blanca were friends. Wasn't it possible he and Wilda could become friends? He hoped so. Maybe then she would stoke his side again. He had never imagined a touch could feel so good. As he landed on the bank, he realized that no matter how comfortable his cave felt to him, humans weren't draigs. She'd need human kind of furnishings, which he didn't have. He hunkered down as much as possible so she could slide off his back without harm, When Wilda made it to the ground, Blanca immediately flew down from a tree branch and landed on a bush near her. "I bid you fair greetings," Wilda said to the ahver. She returns your greetings, Vorst said. "But she can't talk to me like you do." It wasn't a question so Vorst didn't answer. He listened to what Blanca was saying to him about making his cave comfortable for Wilda. Since he'd have to fly to the castle to get what was needed, risk was involved. But draigs were born to face danger--or, in his case, created to face it. A prudent draig would wait until dark, thus minimizing the risk. How could he keep Wilda safe if a covey of knights riding harthers followed him home? She needed food as well, but that was easier to find. There were fish in the river--being human, she'd want them cooked. Easy enough for a draig to start a fire. Blanca would show her where fruit grew on nearby trees. "Do I have to go in the cave?" Wilda asked. He saw her unease. My cave is dry and pleasantly cool. At nightfall I'll bring you blankets and a pillow from the castle. Also a cup and knife. "The castle where the knights are? Your enemies will give you blankets? And knives?" He laughed and then was sorry for he saw the sound frightened her. Vorst takes by stealth. She blinked at him and then half-smiled. "You mean steal. Very wise." He listened again to Blanca and agreed with her. Wilda might be ignorant of the pitfalls of this land, but she was quick to catch on. We think you're wise enough to learn how to survive here, he told Wilda. "I hope so." She pulled down her hood and rubbed her hand over her bare scalp. Blanca asks if she can land on your shoulder.

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Wilda looked at the ahver. "You are welcome." The ahver fluttered from the bush to Wilda's right shoulder and gently brushed her bill against Wilda's cheek. She's given your hair the power to grow back quickly. Was that possible? Wilda wondered. But Vorst said the white ahver was magic, so maybe. She thanked Blanca, who flew back to the bush. Follow her and she'll lead you to fruit trees close by. Wilda nodded and, as the ahver rose into the air, trailed after her. When she returned, using her skirt as a carrier for purple fruit, the sun had left the river gorge by the cave, allowing dusk to settle in. She saw several silvery fish on the ground beside a small pile of dry brush and small logs. As she watched, Vorst opened his mouth and she gasped as flame shot onto the pile, setting it afire. For you to cook the fish. For her. She thrust away the shock of seeing him breathe fire. Story books said draigs did that; she shouldn't have been so startled. Vorst left when true darkness cloaked the land. Blanca settled onto Wilda's shoulder and remained there. Time passed and the coals of the fire winked out one by one until Wilda began to worry that her draig had encountered his enemies. Her draig? She shook her head. Strange how quickly Vorst had begun to seem like a friend. One she truly needed in this strange land. The ahver was a comfort, but she couldn't mind speak like the draig. When Wilda finally heard the whoosh of his wings, no more than three coals remained. As soon as Vorst landed, Blanca left her shoulder, glowing in the dark, lighting the way into the cave, which, to Wilda's surprise, didn't seem so very damp. The farther she followed Blanca's glow into the depths, the less dank it seemed. Eventually they came into a large chamber. Here Vorst shrugged off the blankets and pillows he'd carried from the castle and Wilda arranged a bed with them on the stone floor. Blanca flew off, leaving the cavern in darkness except for a lavender glow— no two. Vorst's eyes. "Where is she going?" Ahvers don't sleep in caves. Blanca doesn't sleep at all, because she's magic, but she perches in a tree outside at night. Humans didn't usually sleep in caves, either. But being here with Vorst was better than Blanca's tree. Wilda snuggled into her nest of blankets and shut her eyes. Hearing him settle down somewhere nearby, she reached a hand to see how close and touched the softness of his scales. Not his side. Not a leg. What? "Is that your tail?" she asked. Does it trouble you? "No." She pulled his tail closer, until it touched her blankets. When she felt the contact, somehow the dark in the cave wasn't so frighteningly strange. "May we both dream well," she whispered. Vorst lay awake, listening to Wilda's breathing, the warmth of her body through the blankets a caress against his tail. A connection. And very different than the one he had with Blanca. He savored the feeling.

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***~*** In the morning, Vorst showed her how to navigate the many turns that led to the cave entrance. She found what was left of her pile of purple fruit and bit into one, sweet juice filling her mouth. She watched Vorst wade into the river and catch fish, eating them raw. Rather than disgusting her, she tried to imagine what it would be like to be a draig. Perhaps raw fish would taste like a delicacy. How wonderful to be able to fly, something both Blanca and Vorst had in common. Her head itched. When she reached up to scratch, she found a stubble of hair growing and she smiled, hoping to feel a tinge of returning power soon. "Tell me about Asra," she said when Vorst came out of the river. King Kress rules the land. "Young or old?" Vorst tipped his head to one side, regarding her. Not old, but older than you. His wife, Queen Gelfa died of the spotted sickness not long ago. He has no heir to rule after him, so he must marry again to beget one. The king's not a bad man, but he's not pleased to have a draig in his kingdom. I'm careful, so the knights he sends to search for me haven't found my lair. "They shouldn't be hunting you—you don't hunt them. Do you?" I was created to be a friend to humans so I neither hunt nor eat them. "Created? Not born?" A mage created me, and Blanca as well, for his own purposes. Once we helped him fulfill them, he let us go free. How strange. Not the creation--a great mage could do such things. But she'd never heard of setting any creation being set free, since the reason for their creation was to be slaves of the mage. "So you're not a real draig." I may differ in details, but I am as much a draig as if born one. "For some reason the mage gave you beautiful amethyst eyes with human, not draig, pupils." I was not aware of this. You find my eyes beautiful? Wilda reached into her inner pocket and took out the amethyst Renz had give her. Laying the deep lavender gem in the palm of her hand she held it out for Vorst to see. "Your eyes are this color and glow like the amethyst does as well." He studied the jewel. Amazing. I know not why he did that. Wilda smiled teasingly as she tucked the gem away. "Why so I could admire your eyes, of course." This time she recognized the frightening sound he made as a chuckle. She could hardly believe she'd relaxed enough to be more or less flirting with a draig. If he'd been a man, she never would've let her guard down. Was she foolish to trust Vorst? Trust a creature so large he could crush her under his feet if he stepped on her? Trust him to be truthful? Remembering how Vorst had claimed never to lie, she said, "Everyone lies. Even I do."

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I was created to always tell the truth, so I must. Should she believe him? Blanca tells me you will need a change of clothes. Wilda glanced up at the white ahver watching them from her tree, then down at her own soiled gardening tunic and breeches. "And a bath." You can bathe in my pool. Tonight when I hunt for your clothes, I will find the soap Blanca says you need. She almost warned him to be careful, but then thought it would sound silly— a human cautioning a draig. Instead, she smiled at him and said, "You can't lie, but luckily your mage creator never thought to prevent you from stealing things that I need." Those who live in the castle have far more of everything than they need. I take from them, not from those who have little. A noble draig? "How about when they stake out beautiful virginal maidens-do you harm them?" I never go near traps. The maidens remain unharmed. Why is it humans think a draig would be interested in human females? Why not bait such traps with animals? I'd still avoid them, but it makes more sense. "I'm a human female," she pointed out. You are different, Wilda. There's a connection between us. Not the kind between a male and female of the same species, but a connection all the same. She hadn't felt any connection at first, but now she knew, however tenuous, one was there. "Have you killed any knights?" I try not to, though some have been maimed. He looked at the ahver, then added, Blanca says you did not enter our land willingly. Wilda wasn't ready to talk about what had happened in Tonapa so she merely said, "She's right," and changed the subject. "If you can find a big basket with a handle while near the castle tonight, you could carry everything here in it instead of trying to balance things on your back." She hadn't known draigs could smile, and his was a fearful one, revealing many sharp teeth. Still, she recognized it for what it was. "You'd never have gotten me on your back if you'd shown me all those teeth when first we met. I was scared enough as it was." Yet you stroked my side. "Not right away. Once you told me to climb on your back, I needed to find out how those scales felt." How do they feel to you? Great Goddess, was he flirting with her? "Something like my velvet cloak, pleasantly smooth if stroked one way, rough if stroked the other." Vorst half-closed his eyes. I enjoyed your touch. If he were a man this would be her clue to get elsewhere as quickly as possible. But he wasn't. Vorst was a draig and had no notion of flirting--that was only in her mind. Rape certainly couldn't be his aim, considering their physical

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differences. He deserved some reward for taking care of her. She hadn't minded stoking his side and she had no other way to repay him. Remembering how harthers liked their necks patted, she said, "If you bend your head down, I'll stroke your neck." She found his neck scales were smaller and softer than the larger ones on his sides. Using both hands, she gently caressed them, hearing a chuffing rumble in his throat that reminded her of a cat's purr. His eyes closed all the way. She smiled, glad he enjoyed her touch, and thought that no one in the entire city of Mizpa would ever believe she was petting a fierce draig. Or that she was beginning to feel she could trust Vorst more than she ever had any man. *** ~ *** When it grew dark and Vorst flew off to find clothes for her, Wilda propped herself up against a tree trunk outside the cave and Blanca once more perched on her shoulder, keeping her company. "Do you think he'll be safe?" Wilda asked, surprised to realize she was worried that those at the castle might be on the lookout for him tonight. "Could he be heading into a trap?" The white ahver pressed her beak gently against Wilda's cheek again, the touch like a mother's calming hand letting a child feel all was well. Or as well as the situation could be under the circumstances. "How fortunate you were there when I was thrown into the Temple," Wilda told her. Apparently the ahver had been waiting for her arrival if what she'd told Vorst was true--that it was meant Wilda would come to this land. But why? If there was a purpose to her being inside the Temple Of Time, she had no knowledge of what that purpose could be. Were there witches in Asra? If so, did their hair give them away to other humans as it did in Mizpa? Presumably the king and his retainers were human, but she had yet to see one of them. Once her hair grew out enough for the white streaks to show, it might be prudent not to show herself until she knew how the humans of Asra treated witches. She dozed off after a time, rousing to the rush of giant wings. Vorst was back! Blanca left her shoulder and she rose, waiting for him to land. When she heard him set down, she followed the ahver's white glow and saw him drop the basket he carried in his mouth onto the ground. About to look and see what he'd brought inside it, the moonlight showed her something that made her draw in her breath. An arrow pierced his left wing. "Great Goddess, help us, you're hurt!" she cried. They ambushed me. Chapter 3 Wilda stared at the thin trickle of blood staining the draig's wing. She had to help him--but how?

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Blanca will heal the wound, but you must remove the arrow first. I can do it, she told herself. I must. If only she had enough of her power back to numb Vorst's senses so he would feel no pain. But she felt only a tinge of her witch power, not enough to work with. She felt helpless without it, wondering where to begin. The head of this arrow must be cut off before you pull it free of my wing. There is a knife in the basket. Since she knew very well what an arrowhead looked like, she should have thought of that. He lay on the ground, his injured wing open. She retrieved the knife from the basket, took a deep breath, climbed up onto his front leg to reach the arrow and immediately saw she'd have to pull the arrow farther through the wing to get enough shaft to saw through. Blanca settled on Vorst's head to give enough light so Wilda could see what had to be done. "This will hurt," she warned, clenching her teeth against the pain she knew she'd be causing him. The she yanked on the arrowhead until she pulled part of the shaft into cutting distance. The knife, though sharp, was small and had not been made for sawing its way through wood. Draig blood welled up and trickled over her hands. By the time the shaft was cut through enough for her to break it off, both the knife handle and her hands were sticky with his blood. She tossed knife and arrowhead to the ground, then grabbed the shaft on the opposite side of the wing and yanked the rest of the arrow free. Through all this he had made no sound. Blanca flew down to the draig's injured wing, her white glow illuminating the open wound, which immediately ceased bleeding. The shaft with its feathers still in her hand, Wilda slid off Vorst's leg and picked up both knife and arrowhead. The knife she'd clean, but not the broken arrow. That she'd save as it was until her power came back enough to turn the weapon on the one who'd shot at her good friend Vorst. The pool for cleansing. Follow me with the basket. Holding knife and broken arrow in one hand, Wilda reached with the other for the handle of the basket, and, with Blanca lighting the way, followed Vorst into the cave. They passed through the sleeping chamber and went on, entering a passageway so narrow Vorst barely fit into it. After what seemed an eternity, the passage widened and, to Wilda's surprise, led outside. Not by the river where the cave entrance was, but another place entirely. She heard a murmur of falling water and breathed in the scent of a nightblooming flower. Vorst lunged ahead and splashed into what must be his pool. Wilda set down what she carried before hurrying to see what he was doing. Light from a large moon showed the ahver perched in a small nearby tree, Vorst sat submerged up to his neck in the midst of a large pool of water formed by a stream trickling down from the rocks above. Join me. She didn't hesitate. Throwing off her cape and yanking off her boots, she emptied her pockets of the coins and the amethyst, dropped them into the basket and

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picked up the cake of sweet-scented soap. Then she waded into the cool water, clothes and all, until it was waist-high, easing down to sit on the rocky bottom. After taking off her clothes, she washed them as best she could, relishing the clean feel of the water on her bare skin. She ducked down to wet her head, rubbing at the stubble of hair, surprised to discover it had grown at least a finger-length. So fast! "Thank you, Blanca," she called. I have you to thank as well as Blanca. My wing no longer hurts, it heals. Why did you keep the broken arrow? "When my power returns fully, I intend to use that arrow against the archer. He who shot it into your wing is no friend of mine." Is that wise? She didn't answer. What did wisdom have to do with vengeance? After a time she stood, water dripping from her, and left the pool to wring out her clothes and drape them on a rocky ledge. When she glanced at Vorst, his glowing amethyst eyes were fixed on her. He wasn't a man, so she had no real reason to hide her nakedness from him. I have never seen a human woman without clothes. I find your form pleasing. His compliment touched her heart. How different she was from him, how puny she must seem, considering the size and strength of a draig. Yet he liked the way she looked. At the same time, for some reason his steady gaze made her want to cover herself. In the basket she found a shift and a gown that fit well enough, though it came only to the middle of her lower leg. In the moonlight the color was difficult to discern. As though she'd asked aloud, Vorst spoke. I chose a gown the color of my scales. Does it please you? She smiled at him. "Green is the color of Spring," she said, "of growing plants. Spring is a time of rebirth and, in a way, I am being reborn here in this land where draigs can mind speak and ahvers are magic. So the green gown is a wonderful choice." Blanca and I are not typical of this land, though we were created here. Created by a mage, he'd said before, one who had set them free when he no longer needed them. They were real, not illusions, such as she'd seen mages of her world create. Not Renz. She'd never seen him create anything that appeared to have life. Maybe he couldn't. That made her think of Petra and she sighed. You are troubled? Before replying, Wilda slipped her cape over her green gown and put on the sandals she'd found in the basket. "I worry that my friend Petra back in Mizpa may have come to harm for helping me. The mage whose apprentice I was there is in real trouble. Now I'm in Asra and you've already been injured because of me. Perhaps I carry a curse." I know about curses, but why blame yourself? I have free will. Did not your friend and the mage have such? She nodded. Blanca tells me you are here because we are connected, you and I. Why a draig and a human should be is not yet clear, but I am happy the human is you.

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"Since I've never before met a draig, I don't know how they usually behave, though I'm sure I wouldn't care for most of them. I suspect you are unique among draigs." Vorst rose from the water with a great flapping of wings. Healed, he said as he made his way to shore. Now we sleep. *** ~*** Wilda woke from a dream of being safe, safe and warm, cuddled in the arms of one who loved her. As the dream faded, she found no cuddling arms, instead Vorst's tail curled protectively around her, his great amethyst eyes studying her. Your hair grows fast. May I touch it? Sitting up and lifting a hand to her head, she discovered her hair was halfway down to her shoulders and smiled at the draig, nodding He reached a clawed hand-like front paw toward her head, his touch as light as a summer breeze. To touch your hair gives me as much pleasure as when you stroke my scales. Why is it not all one color? "In Tonapa, the white streaks brand me as a witch." Not in Asra. Later when they'd left the cave and broken their fast, Wilda leaned against Vorst's side. "It's a shame the king's knights hunt you. Are you sure these are the only habitable caves in this land? What about those sea caves?" Far, far away, Blanca says. But humans live near them as they do here in Asra. Humans do not deal well with draigs. Can't you reason with them? You are the only human who hears me, except for the mage and his mate. There was another, a female who became human, but she and her mate went through a portal into another world. "Couldn't you do the same?" Blanca and I cannot leave the country where we were created. Charis was only a phantasm, but her mate's love made her human and then she could leave. Wilda wasn't sure she understood, but it didn't matter. If Vorst couldn't leave this country, then a portal to elsewhere was no solution. The sea caves? But humans lived near there, too. "Why didn't the mage create a female draig for you while he was at it? At least you'd have company." He showed his teeth, a draig's smile. I have female company. "Yes, but--" She broke off, aware he knew as well as she did they could never be true mates. What a shame that was. Vorst was the only male she had ever really trusted. She felt safe with him, safe and--and what else? I have never mated, but draig instinct tells me we mate in the air. The concept thrilled through her. How wonderful to fly with someone like yourself to mate. Nothing ugly like what those louts in Ely had tried to do to her. She didn't for a moment regret how she'd retaliated as a beast. As a beast . . .? A beast?

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Her last thought had been so strong that Vorst heard it. "I changed shape once, but it was into a vicious beast. Something like a volan, but worse. I don't know how I made myself into something else, but I wonder if I could ever do it again." She shuddered. "Only not into that same beast. Maybe that's all I can change into." The mage who created me could change his appearance as a human to other humans and into a volan as well. Renz could project the illusion he'd changed into someone or something else, but she didn't believe he could truly shapeshift. "Your creator was a powerful mage. I'm merely a witch." And one whose hair hasn't grown enough yet to have more than a modicum of power. You shifted once. Neither had mentioned what she knew must be foremost in his mind as it was hers. It's dangerous to be a draig in Asra. Ah, there, he'd broached it in a slanted fashion. What would happen if, as her full power returned, she somehow mastered the changing and could become what she willed herself to be? She stared into Vorst's amethyst eyes and felt a strange warmth pool within her. Confused and a bit frightened by it, she looked away. "Blanca must be waiting for us by the river." Blanca is no longer with us. She's been called away. "By the mage?" By whatever her magic tells her she must do. "Someone else in need of rescue?" Like as not. "If she calls you, will you have to go to her?" She will not, for I have you to take care of. "No more forays to the castle! No more placing yourself in harm's way." He bared his sharp teeth in a draig smile. I'm pleased you care what happens to me. She did. Not just because he was her only protector in this strange land, but because she'd never felt as though she belonged with anyone until she'd met Vorst. ***~*** That night, as she lay in her shift, Wilda told him how much she liked the feel of his tail cuddling her, taking the end and laying her cheek against it. He made the sound she thought of as purring and bushed his tail gently over her face, then over her shoulder down along her back, before curling it around one of her legs below the knee. She sighed with pleasure. ”I once saw a picture of a maiden in a cave with a draig," she said dreamily. "He was green like you, but didn't have your eyes. The end of his tail was curled around one of her ankles as though he kept her prisoner there. She looked downcast." He removed his tail from her leg. I would never keep you prisoner.

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"You misunderstood. I like the feel of your tail caressing me. That maiden was a fool." Caressing you is my pleasure. Back came the tail, slithering like warm velvet over her body, exploring her slowly, her breasts, abdomen, then down between her legs, kindling a fire whose heat scorched through every part of her. Aflame with a need she'd never felt before, and aware the need couldn't be satisfied, Wilda whispered his name. "Oh, Vorst, Vorst . I wish . . ." I wish as well. "That I was a draig, or that you were a human man?" I was created a draig and can never be a man. "The secret of success is to forget the word 'never.'" She was quoting Renz, so he had taught her something, after all. Thinking of him reminded her of the amethyst he'd given her. For what purpose? He'd claimed to catch glimpses of the future in the immense crystal he kept high in his tower. Had he seen in the crystal she'd have use for the gem? She stared up at Vorst's glowing amethyst eyes and, like an arrow from an archer's bow, a conviction transfixed her. Renz hadn't admitted it, but she now was sure the reason he'd offered to take her on as his assistant was because he'd seen the dark of the shapeshifter within her and hoped to learn her secret. He soon must have realized she couldn't tell him how she'd changed if she didn't know herself. A wonder he hadn't turned her out. Yet he hadn't. And when danger forced them to part, he'd gifted her with the amethyst. Renz did nothing without a purpose. He intended her to use the gem, not to barter for food or lodging, but for a purpose she didn't yet grasp. I have no power to grant a wish, Vorst said. Even Blanca doesn't possess that kind of magic. Wilda sighed. "Nor do I. My father used to say, "As likely to have a wish granted as to hook a fish in a dry pond." No, she couldn't grant wishes. But, then again, did what she wished depend on anyone's grant? Or did it depend on her power--and the amethyst? Excited, she raised a hand to her hair. Longer. If it kept growing at this speed, soon she'd have command of all the power she possessed. She started to send a message to Vorst, but held. Best not to say anything until she could feel the power rise in her, and even then could she be sure? Sighing again, she settled herself among her blankets, Vorst curled his tail around her and she held the tip in hands, stroking it until she fell asleep. In the cloudy morning Wilda cooked and ate the fish he'd caught for her, planning to search for more fruit trees near the cave later. She said so to Vorst. I have a confession. She raised her eyebrows. A diet of fish leaves me hungry. I must go on a hunt for enough meat to satisfy me. "Not near the castle, I hope." Their flocks graze in distant fields. No danger.

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"Are there no wild animals to hunt?" None in Asra are large enough to satisfy my appetite. I don't want to fly too far from you. You'll stay near the cave? "Don't worry, I'm a country girl who learned early how not to get lost. Besides, some of my power is working now, enough to keep me safe from wild animals. Other dangers lay in wait. Asra is not like your world. But near the cave all is safe. "Go hunt," she told him, smiling. "But keep an eye out for archers." After watching until Vorst was hidden by clouds, she retrieved the bloody arrowhead and broken shaft from where she'd left them. Digging a small trench in the sandy soil by the river, she lined the depression with small stones, then set the arrowhead and the shaft into the tiny grave. Fetching water in her cup from the river, she sprinkled it over the unjoined parts of the arrow, reaching for her power as she chanted: "May the grave's damp and cold Reach the very bow you hold Pierce arrow-like into your soul Change your skin and bones to mold." Then she covered the contents with sand and lay two heavy stones atop the grave to keep small animals from digging it up. A potent spell, yes, one she'd found in a book at Renz's. But surely not dark magic, merely revenge against the archer who dared to injure her draig. After washing her hands in the clear river water, she set off down stream to look for fruit trees. When she noticed bright green globes hanging from a tree on the opposite bank, she searched for a way to cross. There were no foot-bridges, which was just as well, since she never wanted to encounter another troll. A short way past the fruit tree she came on a group of large flat stones strategically situated to form a crossing. She hesitated, vaguely recalling a rhyme people in Ely chanted while using stepping stones, a ward-off rhyme she hadn't bothered to learn, since nothing ever troubled her when she crossed on the stones. As child she hadn't known she was a witch, but she did realize she was different from others. If she'd had enough power then to avoid whatever danger might occur, why worry now? The chant must be to protect against something lurking in the river-she'd keep a sharp eye out, just in case. Wilda cautiously set foot on the first stone, close to the bank. Nothing, no stir in the river, no sign of anything dangerous. As she leaped from stone to stone, she kept her gaze focused on the rapid flow of the water. She gained the farther bank with a spurt of relief, stepping away from the river toward a large tree growing near the water, then turned to head back up river to reach the fruit tree. Without warning, something soft and sticky dropped over her, covering her from head to toe. She screamed, then desperately tried to free herself. The more she struggled, the tighter the webbing bound her, until she finally lay helpless on the ground. Trapped.

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Chapter 4 Wilda, finally realizing efforts to free herself were useless, called on her returning power to clear her mind, so she could concentrate on using this power to try to escape. The stickiness of what was tangled around her resembled a spinner's web. A wave of fear swamped her as she imagined the size and intelligence of the spinner that could prepare and set a trap this large. If only she'd thought to look up after she'd crossed the river, she might have avoided being caught and trussed up like some hapless insect in a normal-sized spinner web. As she gathered herself to invoke the undo spell, a rustle to her left made her glance that way. Her breath caught and her concentration on the spell vanished. A black and gray striped spinner as large as a milk-giving milch approached on its eight legs, red eyes focused on the prey caught in its web. On her. She knew, like every spinner, it intended to pierce her body and suck her clean of all blood and other juices, leaving her a dead, dry husk. As the giant spinner approached, Wilda's terror paralyzed her. Big as a milch, but not gentle and friendly like that creature. She shuddered at the razor sharpness of its mandibles. Not until its vicious red eyes glared into hers, did she manage to regain some control of her mind. She fired a mind shot. Stop! Back off. I am not prey. The spinner paused, unmoving. No, Wilda kept transmitting. Not prey. The spinner came no closer, but did not turn away, staying where it was, eyes fixed on her. Over and over, she broadcast the message at the spinner, holding it at bay, but not making it retreat, forcing her to keep complete concentration of her power on the message, unable to use any to invoke the undo spell. Eventually she tired, making it more and more difficult to concentrate. The spinner took one step toward her. Another. Then another. One of its feet touched the webbed prison holding her. "No!" she screamed. The spinner cut into the webbing, its mandibles close to her, clicking hungrily. She closed her eyes. Suddenly the trap jerked, pulled upward, into the air. Wilda opened her eyes and thought she could see clouds through the cottony webbing. Clouds and--was that a glimpse of green? You very nearly were prey. Vorst! He'd saved her. Again. When I heard your scream and then the mind messages you threw at the spinner, I came as fast as I could. For most creatures, river-spinners are death to tangle with. If I'd known one was anywhere near my cave, I would have warned you.

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When they reached the cave entrance, he set the webbed cage she was trapped in the shallows of the river bank after much difficulty in removing it from his clawed hands. Her face was barely above water. "Water dissolves the sticky stuff?" she asked. Only fire will do that. I'll do my best not to burn you. Keep in the water as much as possible. Fire burst from his mouth, hot and deadly. As best she could, Wilda burrowed into the water, then into the sand of the river bottom as the webbing melted away from her. When at last she was free, she was also slightly singed, the burns throbbing when she waded from the river with her gown in shreds. With the last bits of her power, she quashed the pain--then collapsed. She came to within the cave with damp leaves covering the worst of her burns. If Blanca were here, she'd heal you quickly. I don't have her magic, but these leaves will help ease pain. I'd give anything not to have harmed you in any way, but I had no choice. Please forgive me. "Burns heal, but the dead don't come to life. I live because you saved me. For the second time, I owe my life to you." You are my life. Tears sprang to her eyes. No one had ever said those words to her, or even come close. As a child, she'd just been one more nuisance underfoot, especially after her mother died. Through her tears, she gazed up into his amethyst eyes. "I love you, Vorst." *** ~ *** Three days later, Wilda's burns were all but healed, thanks to the clear, cool and healing water of Vorst's secret pool. As she sat on its rocky bottom, submerged up to her neck, she looked up at the darkening sky. The sun was down behind the rocky pinnacles that surrounded the pool and the few trees and plants that grew in the cleft between the peaks. Safe. She was safe here with Vorst. She was also annoyed with him. Because his fire had damaged her gown beyond repair, he'd gone off to find her another. Though she'd tried to make him promise not to go near the castle, he hadn't listened. "I have my breeches and shirt, I don't need a gown," she'd insisted. "I'd rather be sure you weren't being hunted than ever wear a gown again." Her words had been in vain. Male draigs could be as stubborn as men. He could have at least waited until full dark instead of flying off at dusk. She'd left the pool and dressed by the time the first stars danced in the night sky. Renz had told her the name of a few constellations, but those were in the skies of Tonapa. The stars here were entirely different. One group to the west looked much like a draig to her. Vorst had said those stars were near the sea of salt water. Other caves were by the sea. Someday, if she could work the right spell, maybe

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she'd see those caves. Her hair now was as long as before those louts had shaved her head and she could feel the power gathering in her, simmering in her bones, waiting. The problem about the spell was that she had none for changing. She'd simply have to wing it. Which made her smile. Wing it, indeed. A shimmer in the air around her told her Vorst was near. She looked up in eager anticipation. The moon , this time a smaller one, peeked over one of the pinnacles, guaranteeing by its pale light she'd be able to watch him float down and land. Whoever would have imagined a draig could be so graceful. I sense you waiting. "You'd better not be bringing any arrows home with you." No arrows. His words came to her as the moon showed her a draig shape flying over a pinnacle. He said nothing more until he was on the ground. The basket contains food as well as clothes for you. As she examined the basket contents, he added, King Kress is ill. "Should I care?" No one kn the remains in the river. She obeyed. But I can't totally undo the spell without being near the king. Leave the arrow where the sunlight will reach it in the morning. It may help. Don't you know spells such as you placed on King Kress have a wicked way of striking back at the one who conjures them? She stared at Vorst. Renz hadn't mentioned a backlash. She wondered now if he'd set an evil spell on someone. Could it have struck back in the form of the tribunal labeling him a dark sorcerer? She'd never know--and what did it matter? She and Vorst would soon be soaring high--together. He showed her the best way to climb to the rocky heights above the cave and she followed him until they stood together on a flat ledge looking down at the river below. The secret of take-off is to get the wind beneath your wings and do not panic. Watch what I do and copy me. Wings, flapping, Vorst launched himself from the ledge, flying up and up into the moonlight. How easy it looked. Wilda advanced to the edge, unfolded her wings and flapped them before thrusting herself away from the ledge. Instead of soaring up, she dropped down. Don't panic. Keep flapping, he sent. Despite her best effort, she neared the river. Just above the water, she felt a surge that lifted her. She flew upstream a ways, sensing the wind beneath her wings, using its power to enhance her own. Up she went, and up, until she joined Vorst in the moonlight. I'm flying! Yes, my beautiful white draig. She felt beautiful. More than beautiful--powerful. She wheeled in the air and flew over the pinnacles that guarded the pool, then on toward the castle, curious to see how it looked from above. Vorst followed, warning, It's best to fly during moon dark, so we can't be seen. We're all too visible in moonlight. Time to turn back lest they spot us. She didn't want to go back so soon. You fly when the moon is up. Why can't I?

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White. Yes, she was easier to spot than Vorst , but humans rarely looked up at night unless they were star mages--and that type of mage was rare. Back. Now. We've come too far. There'll be other nights, moon dark nights. She longed to keep flying, on and on, forever, but his words made sense. Tonight was only the beginning. When she circled around, she glanced at Vorst and remembered that draigs mated in the air. He didn't show a sign he intended any such thing. Much as she'd like to try it, now that she was up here, mating seemed a tricky maneuver while in the air. How could draigs keep aloft while consumed with desire? Watch me land and copy, Vorst advised as they swept over the pinnacles. He spiraled down ahead of her and glided to the ground. She did her best to imitate his every move, but wound up landing in the pool with a great splash. Laughing, he joined her. Like children they played foolish water games, ending when he laid his neck across her, their faces touching. I've seen humans touch each other's lips. Draigs have none, so we can't kiss. But. . . Reaching with his tongue, he caressed her face. Wilda melted inside, and twisted her tail around his. Anything was possible now that they matched, draig to draig. Perhaps draigs didn't always mate in the air. His tongue touched hers in warm intimacy. She nestled her body as close to his as she could, savoring the feel of his scales against hers. I desire you. His whisper in her mind sunk into her very bones. His tail touched her in her female place and she groaned her need. His caresses stopped abruptly and he drew away from her. Turning to look at him, she saw he was staring up between two of the pinnacles. She followed his gaze and froze. Humans!

Chapter 5 Change back! Vorst's command blasted through her. They're armed, but they won't harm a human female. I'll distract them. Without waiting for an answer, he splashed from the pool and thrust himself into flight. Fear for him burned through her like draig fire, triggering a vertigo that made her stagger. As the pain of the first wrenching doubled her, she thought to grasp, with her taloned fingers, the amethyst on its chain around her front leg. She couldn't risk losing the gem. Minutes later she stood naked and human in water up to her neck. Chilled, she waded slowly toward shore, searching above her for Vorst. She heard the shouts of men, the faint twang of bowstrings. They meant to kill him! Shivering with cold and fright, she paused in water up to her waist. The armed men, twenty or so, were halfway down the hill now. Vorst circled above, a target for their arrows.

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No! Fly away , she urged him by frantic mind send. Don't let them harm you. I've changed back. Save yourself. He turned and headed toward the far pinnacles, away from the men, but she noticed, to her horror, that he listed to one side. Still, he managed to fly between pinnacles and disappear from sight. She turned her attention to the men, crossing her arms over her breasts when she saw how near they were to the pool. They stopped at the edge of the water, staring at her. "Lady, be ye hurt?" The one who spoke wore a cloak over his armor. The leader of the men? "N-no," she stammered, shuddering with dread as much as with chill. "'Tis fortunate we arrived in time to save ye. Come forth from the water and we'll bring ye to the castle." Though aware she couldn't remain in the cold water and survive, she wasn't eager to display her nakedness to these murderous soldiers and perhaps be raped. "I am yet a maiden," she told the speaker. "It is not fit for me to be seen without clothes." "Ye'll not be harmed, Lady." He removed the cloak covering his armor and held it out toward her. Having no choice, Wilda waded to shore as rapidly as her chilled legs would take her, grabbed the proffered cloak and wrapped herself in it, concealing the chain with the amethyst within its folds. "I thank you for your courtesy," she managed to say through her chattering teeth. Though desperate to remain by the cave to tend to injuries she feared Vorst had suffered, Wilda knew her safety lay in behaving like the victim they believed she was. She sent a prayer to the Goddess that Vorst would survive and that they wouldn't leave guards here to trap him when and if he returned. "By your leave, Lady, two of my men will make a seat to carry ye." About to protest she could walk by herself, she realized that was impractical barefoot. "I have no choice." As she arranged herself as best she could on the men's hands crossed wrist to wrist, a memory surfaced of two of her brothers carrying her home this way the time she'd run the sting thorn through her sandal and into her foot. They had cared about her when she was small. She tried to blink back unwelcome tears, then gave it up and let them fall, sniffling a bit. Weeping might well reinforce the notion that she was a poor, helpless maiden who'd been abducted by a draig. Thinking of Vorst, she began to sob outright. She was being taken away from the only being she'd ever really loved. How bad was his injury? Would those left by the pool kill him if he returned? This possibility dried her tears. Beware. They guard the pool, she mind sent. I'm all right. Are you? No answer for so long a time, she despaired. As they reached the summit of one of the high hills, a faint message reached her. Wounded. Used the river entrance. Am crawling to the secret place beyond the cave.

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That was the last she heard. No matter how hard she tried to reach him again, there was no response. "Be ye traveling well, Lady? The leader's voice jerked her from her dark imaginings. "What will happen to me at the castle?" She allowed a tremor to quiver through the words. "There'll be women to see to your comfort." Remembering then that King Kress was ill, and, by her design, she wondered if cleansing the broken arrow had helped his condition at all. Which gave her an idea that might work to her advantage. "I live in the far reaches of Asra and have some skill with herbs. When I heard the king was ill, I set off for the castle in the hope I might help him." She sighed heavily. "Alas, the draig captured me." "A healer you be? A blessing, then, that we rescued ye." By the time they descended the other side of the hill and reached their tethered harthers, Wilda drooped with exhaustion. The leader mounted and the two men who'd carried her lifted her onto his harther, seating her behind him. To better cling to him, she slipped the silver chain with the pendant over her head. Off they rode, heading, she was dimly aware, toward the castle. My fault, my fault. The words echoed and reechoed in her head. She'd insisted on flying this way despite Vorst's warning. Someone must have seen them and followed their flight back to the pinnacles hiding the secret pool. Secret no more. Her fault. If Vorst didn't survive . . . She endured the ride to the castle in dark despair. In a daze when they arrived, she was scarcely aware of what was happening to her. Women murmured sympathetically as they gathered round, a warm bath, a clean gown, a soft bed, then the deep well of sleep. . . ***

~

***

High in the sky, she stared down at the river and the green body that lay unmoving half in, half out of the water. Her draig vision confirmed her worst fears-Vorst. She plummeted down to him, only to find archers pouring from the cave entrance, arrows notched, all aimed at her. The arrows sailed through the air, one at a time so close she could hear them hiss as they flew past. Then one, another and another found their mark, piercing into her right back foot. Instead of violent pain, all she felt was pin-pricks. She tried to swerve from the hail of arrows, kicking a few away with her uninjured foot. Something yowled. Wilda blinked, waking to see an indignant kitten, fur ruffled, tail bristling, crawl out from under her blanket. She stared at the little animal. It stared back with eyes as green as new spring leaves. The kitten's coat was black, with one white front paw. Kane. The word sprang into her mind. She also got an impression of male. The connection between her and the cat was so strong, it blocked other thoughts.

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She knew she must be in a room in the castle, but that seemed less important than getting acquainted with the kitten. "Your name is Kane?" she asked. The little cat stopped bristling and made his way up the bed toward her. She reached out her fingers. Kane smelled them before allowing her to scratch behind his ears. He curled up in the space between her shoulder and her neck and began to purr. "I didn't mean to kick you," she told him. "I was dreaming. I take it you intend to be mine, little Kane. I do need you now that my hair has grown back. Every witch must have a cat." A gasp made her turn to look toward the door. An older woman with a pointed head covering apparently had just come in, for she carried a tray containing food. "You be a witch?" Wilda plucked the kitten from her neck and sat up, holding him in her lap. Don’t be defensive. Attack. "Yes, of course. How could I cure the king otherwise? My name is Wilda, may I hear yours?" "Koda, my lady. I am to be your maid. Ye really came to help King Kress?" "As I told the soldiers who rescued me, I was on my way to the castle when a draig abducted me." Koda set the tray on a stand near the bed. "Oh, Lady Wilda, what a terrible fate." Wilda arranged her face to convey a suitably somber expression. "Did that awful beast harm ye?" "I prefer not to discuss the matter. I must visit the king as soon as possible, but, as you must know, I arrived here with no clothes at all." "Whilst ye break your fast, I'll fetch ye gowns to choose from." Watching Koda leave, a suspicion struck Wilda. Gowns that had belonged to dead queen ? She shrugged. To anyone raised in Ely, poor as the province was, if you wore clothes of someone who'd died, everyone figured you were lucky to get them. She scooted to the edge of the bed and began eating from the tray. When Koda returned, Wilda glanced at the beautiful fabrics of the gowns and knew she was right. "I'll wear the green today." "Yes, my Lady. "Luck brought ye here, sure enough. No more than a day before he took ill, His Majesty received word his proposal for a new bride was well received by the next kingdom. Happy the day when he recovers and takes her to wed, so we will once again have a queen." "Then I must hie to the king in all haste." "I took the liberty of speaking to the chamberlain. He'll arrange for ye to see the king as soon as possible." "How thoughtful of you." "King Kress be a good man, my Lady. Asra flourishes because of him." Wilda concealed a guilty sigh. Though she'd regained her powers, she was not a true healer and would have to try various spells on the poor man to discover if any worked.

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Fastened into the green gown, she regretted the choice not only because it made her worry about Vorst , which she couldn't afford to do just now, but also because the bodice had a very low neck opening. She wore the silver chain and pendant, but that did little to cover the expanse of bosom. "'Tis badly tarnished, that necklace," Koda said. "Let me polish it." "Later. There's no time." Only one pair of the queen's shoes fit, sandals. Wilda pulled them on over finely woven stockings. Then Koda insisted on dressing her hair in a rather extreme fashion. "'Tis clear there be a resemblance," the maid said. "Goddess rest her spirit." A resemblance to the queen? A knock at the door cut off her question. "Konought, at your service, my Lady," the chamberlain said. "I will show you the way to the king's chambers. Is there anything you require before we go there?" "Thank you, no." Courage, maybe, but she had only herself to draw any from. Since she preferred not to give away that she'd never been inside a castle, she tried not to gawk at fine tapestries lining the corridors, and the golden wall holders for the candles. When Konought opened the door to the king's bedchamber, heat poured out, along with the stench of sickness, all but overwhelming her. "Do you mean to suffocate your poor king?" she demanded. "A sage voice at last." The words, a bare thread of sound, came from behind the heavy draperies enclosing the king's bed. Wilda waved at the draperies. "Draw them aside. A sick man needs air. Fresh air. Open those shuttered windows." She glanced at the huge fireplace, where flames shot high around thick logs. "Put no more fuel on the fire." When the attendants hesitated, she turned to Konought. "If I am to succeed in restoring King Kress to health, my orders must be followed." Konought hesitated until the king spoke from behind the draperies. "Do as she asks. Whether she cures me or not, at least I'll be more comfortable." Instantly the shutters flew open and cool air began to dissipate the miasma in the room. Draperies were drawn and tied back so that Wilda got her first glimpse of the king. Despite the drawn face, pallor and healing sores, it was clear he was young, not old. Ill as he was, the king was still a handsome man. Taking a deep breath, she approached the bedside. "I am Wilda," she told him. "A witch." She heard indrawn breaths ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________

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____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ________________from the others in the room. "I cannot promise, but I will do my best to heal you." His blue eyes fixed on hers and his mouth twitched slightly as though he wanted to smile. "A witch, are you? I thought they were all ugly old crones. You're the first healer to be honest enough not to promise a cure." "I will try, but the Goddess decides." "Perhaps. But if beauty could cure, you'd make me well on the spot." His words startled her. True, Vorst believed she was beautiful, but this was the king. Then she recalled Koda's remark about a resemblance. If she did look something like Queen Gelfa, that might explain the king's words. "No doubt you intend to dose me with foul-tasting herbs and feed me more gruel." "No, Your Majesty. Only fresh, cool water from a spring known to be pure and whatever in the way of food will tempt your appetite. And no blood-letting." His sigh was long drawn out. "As I said, a sage voice at last." Because he seemed to be staring at what her bodice didn't cover, Wilda turned to his attendants. "Who is responsible for bathing the king? And when was this last done?" "I--I think a fortnight ago," one stammered. "Everyone knows bathing makes sickness worse." "Not true. He must be bathed daily and his hair washed once every four days. Of course, you will dress him in clean clothes after each bath." "Do as she says," Konought advised after a glance at the king. "Today, after his bath, he must be dressed warmly and"--she gestured to a wheeled invalid chair--"taken into the sunshine. This will be done daily unless rain intervenes." "It will be done," Konought said. "I shall remain with him in the sun and use what power the Goddess has given me to ensure his recovery." "If you are skilled at reading, bring something to read to me," the king said. "This illness has become intolerably boring." ***

~

***

Once out of the king's chambers, Wilda asked to be guided to where she might find reading material. After leading her up innumerable steps, Konought showed her into a tower room where the dust made her sneeze.

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Reminded of Renz's secret tower room, she said, "This must be your wizard's place." "He was Queen Gelfa's uncle, and he left after she died. We have not located another." She gestured at the ancient books scattered about the room. "Then these are volumes of magic and spells." "You asked for whatever there was to read." He spoke sourly, with an edge of triumph. "The castle has these and no other." She raised her chin. "Very well. You may leave me here." He inclined his head slightly and exited. Obviously he didn't like her, which made them even. She climbed onto a tall stool, sneezed again and rested her elbows on the table, putting her face in her hands. She'd relied on her memory of how the Wise Woman of her village in Ely treated the sick. Some of them did die, but as the Wise Women was wont to say, "At least they died clean." King Kress was not going to die. It was her spell sickening him and so she should be able to find a way to lift it. Meanwhile, he'd expect her to read to him. She pulled one of the ancient tomes on the table to her and opened it. But Vorst filled her mind and the writing blurred as tears spilled from her eyes. How badly was he injured? He had to be alive, she wouldn't, couldn’t believe otherwise. Was the place he retreated to secret enough so the soldiers couldn't find him? Was he in pain? She longed to leave the castle and find Vorst, but now that she'd claimed to be able to cure the king, she doubted they'd let her go. She needed to make the king make well as quickly as possible to get away from here. First of all, though, he had to improve enough so she could risk using the revoking spell on him. Not that she meant to tell him it was a spell, nor that she might well suffer from conjuring it. ***

~

***

After two days had passed, Wilda could see King Kress was definitely improving--but too slowly to suit her. Sitting in the sunlight beside his invalid chair on the balcony reached from his chambers, she opened the old tome to read to him. Since the book had been written by one of his ancestors and told about the brave deeds of his clan, the king enjoyed every word. "So it came to pass that Barth, the third son of King Berber, because he was sickly and had shown a mystic bent, was sent to study with the castle wizard, Halbrent, a clever, fractious man. No one liked Halbrent but, because of his wizardry, no one dared cross him." She went on reading about Barth learning of a Shaping Stone hidden away by a long ago wizard who'd died without revealing its whereabouts. "So it came about that Barth searched the castle from top to bottom and, two years later, found this artifact deep in the dungeons of the castle. This powerful stone, shaped into the image of a six-pointed star, proved to be his undoing." "What use would such a stone be?" the king asked her.

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"I'm not sure. Perhaps it had the power to change one's shape." "I can see where wizards might find that useful." Without comment, she read on, eager to discover exactly what this stone could do and where it might be now. "After Barth used the stone to change himself into a ravening beast, killing Halbrent in the process, his depredations ravaged the countryside. When armed men where unable to subdue him, it came to pass that King Berber sent for a powerful mage from Onalee, the Land Beside The Sea. This mage used the Shaping Stone to return Barth to his former self, then took it back to his land as payment for his successful spell. Barth, always sickly, died soon after, greatly relieving all concerned." "Not so useful, after all," the king commented. "Let us forego reading for conversation. You have yet to tell me about yourself." "Nothing about my life would interest you, Your Majesty." "But you do interest me. In Asra, beautiful woman are sequestered by fathers or husbands, yet you are not. I'm curious to know why." "My father is gone and I do not wish to marry. " Not quite a lie because her father truly was gone, since she would never see him again. "All women wish to marry." She smiled at him. "Witches do not." "Do you lose your powers on the bridal bed?" "No. It's a matter of choice not to marry. Now I wish you to cease talking, because you have improved in health enough so I can use healing rays. Close your eyes and do the breathing pattern I've taught you. After you are fully relaxed, I will stand behind your chair and place my hands atop your head. Keep your eyes closed and feel the golden rays of the sun pass through you from my hands, healing rays." Wilda, her hands in place, right over left, on the top of the king's head, shut her own eyes and silently intoned her spell: From the sun, from the moons, from the stars, From the earth that sustains all life Send your magic through me, your vessel Into he who languishes. Banish all trace of vengeful ill As I revoke my ill-wished spell. A rush of power filled her, passed through her, left her drained. She opened her eyes and removed her hands from his head. Overcome by dizziness, she staggered a few feet. Her last thought before she collapsed was that it served her right. Chapter 6 Wilda found it a strange turn of affairs to find King Kress seated beside her bed when she roused enough to be aware of her surroundings. Koda bent over her. "My lady, ye wake at last. 'Tis two days since."

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The king stood and touched her cheek with his fingers. "I feared we would lose you. Thanks to the All Powerful, you live. I would not want my health restored at the cost of your precious life. When you are completely recovered, we will talk." The next day she was able to leave her bed, her strength rapidly returning thanks to Litha's favor. The Goddess was said by some to favor healers. The king requested her presence the following day, not in his chambers, but in the secluded walled garden where he stood beside a fountain that sprayed gracefully to either side of him into a small pool where golden fish swam. "Ah, my personal healing witch," he said in greeting, and waved his attendants away. He stretched out his arms to both sides. "You see before you a hale and hearty man." "The people will be pleased, Your Majesty. They now can look forward to your wedding day." He frowned. "Yes, there is that." "I regret I shan't be able to wait for that happy day. Since my work is done here, I must be on--" "No! You must not go." He curled his forefinger around her neck chain that held the ornament she wore, making it impossible for her to move away from him. Looking directly into his eyes, she brought chill to her voice. "I am of no more use to you." "Ah, but you are. It pleases me to look at you, to speak with you." "Your Majesty, I am needed elsewhere." "Not as much as you are needed here. I need you. I have spoken. You will remain." Wilda gritted her teeth. "How long?" "As long as I choose." He smiled. "You are a very lovely woman." She understood the words and the smile. "I must remind you I am yet a maiden." His smile grew broader. "Yes, yes, of course. I have no intention of forcing you. Such an act is not permitted in my kingdom, or indeed, in all this land, as you must know. But I do look forward to the seduction." He unwound his finger from the chain and touched her lips. "It has been my experience that all women can be seduced." She turned her head away. "You are wrong." "I have no doubt it will take time, but we have plenty of that." "Surely your bride-to-be will be arriving once it is known you've recovered your health." He shrugged. "An arranged marriage, a political connection between Asra and Bahra, no more. My new queen will provide an heir; you will provide enjoyment." Wilda glared at him. "I do not chose to stay." "You have no choice. I've already given orders that you are not to leave the castle unless in my company. " "That's unfair." He shrugged again. "A king's privilege."

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Angry as she was, she knew what he said was true. "Are you not afraid of what a witch might do?" "I'm sure you are intelligent enough to realize if you harm me, you will die." Also true. Oh, Vorst, where are you? If you live, answer me. Wilda. . . Her name came through weakly, then nothing more. How bad was he injured? Obviously he needed her. She must find some way to get back to him. ***

~ ***

As the week passed Wilda rejected every attempt King Kress made to persuade her to allow him to touch her. Brooding in the wizard's tower, which she'd made her haunt, she thought about and, for several reasons, rejected the idea of a shape change into the white draig. First, was she absolutely certain she could make herself change? When she'd changed with Vorst, she'd been angry with him. When she'd changed into that snarling beast in Ely, she'd been frightened as well as furious. This suggested some strong emotion might be involved in triggering the change, that it wasn't just a matter of her witch's will. Secondly, even if she managed to take on the white draig shape, there was no place in the castle or its grounds where she could successfully launch herself into the air. The small balcony off the king's bedchamber had high walls. So did the archers' stations atop the castle itself, with only slits for the arrows to pass through. If the draig couldn't fly off immediately, she would most certainly be killed by the guards. She'd discovered the king meant what he'd said--she couldn't leave the castle or even be allowed on the outside grounds within the walls if she wasn't in the king's company. Which left her with what? Staring through the slitted windows of the tower, she ached to be standing on the hills she could see not so very far beyond the castle walls. One high, flat-topped hill looked to be an ideal launch for any draig, but it might as well be back in Tonapa for all the good it did her. Unless, of course, she could persuade the king to take her there, which she doubted. Even if she succeeded, wouldn't he insist on bringing along attendants and guards? Sighing, she mind sent to Vorst--with no response. She must get to him before it was too late. The black kitten who followed her everywhere, startled her by leaping onto the table and sitting on the book laying open in front of her. His golden eyes gazed solemnly into hers and he lifted his left front paw--the white one. She touched his paw with her right index finger. "So, Kane, what do you advise?" Almost immediately an idea blossomed in her mind, as though he'd somehow conveyed it. Cooperate and let the seduction proceed. Increase intimacy with the king to gain influence over him. Enough to specify how and where she'd allow him consummation. Which wouldn't be behind the walls of his castle. . .

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Wilda lifted her finger from Kane's paw and caressed him behind the ears. Since the king required her to be his companion during the evening meal, she'd begin this very night by wearing a gown she'd so far avoided, one with an extremely low neck to the bodice. And she'd have Koda polish the silver chain and ornament she wore, so its gleam in the candlelight would be sure to draw his gaze to where it rested between her breasts. ***

~

***

That evening Koda slipped the now shiny silver chain over Wilda's head until its ornament lay against her bare skin. "My lady, I never noticed till I polished it up that there be something showing on that pendant. 'Tis so faint a body can barely make it out. 'Course, ye must've known there be a draig etched into the silver." Wilda lifted the pendant and bent her head to peer closely at it. A thrill shot through her when she saw Koda was right. Hard to see, but definitely a draig. An omen, when she desperately needed one. "His Majesty be not partial to draigs." Koda's words made her look up at the woman as she went on. "Seems a draig killed his grandfather way back. He were just a lad when his father went off to kill that draig, but himself got killed in the doing. So the draig was dead, but the king's father as well. Some say that evil Barth was in league with draigs. Weren't no more of the beasts around till lately. The one what got ye." "An etching of a draig is far different from the beast itself," Wilda told her. "I should know." "Gives me shakes, it do, even to think about being taken by a draig. Don't see how ye can wear that round her neck after what happened to ye." Wilda closed her hand around the pendant, wondering if it was imagination it felt warm. "This is all I have left of--of--" Tears blurred her eyes. "There, now my lady, don't take on. I meant no ill. Mayhap King Kress will understand 'tis all you have left of your family." "And perhaps not. I must wear it, but, to preserve his feelings, why don't we turn the face of the pendant to the inside." Koda nodded and made the switch, so that the plain back of the pendant faced out. "There, 'tis done. Ye be looking your best, my lady, in that white gown." Going down the stairs to the private dining area where she ate with the king, Wilda wished she'd chosen a gown of another color, white being too reminiscent of brides. Still, the long looking glass in her chamber had assured her what she wore should entice any man, which is what she intended. At dinner, over a glass of drope wine, the king confirmed her choice. "I've never seen you look more beautiful." He glanced down to where Kane sat by her feet. "Though I could do without your shadow." "I've told you all witches have a cat. Do not be bothered by Kane." "I hadn't realized how cats stared. Why does he look at me?" "Perhaps it's because you're a king. But I will tell him to stop." She leaned over, slipped a sliver of roasted meat to Kane and touched his one white paw.

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The kitten ate the meat, then curled up at her feet, his head resting on one sandal. "He understands you?" She made her smile provocative. "Kane is a witch's cat, so he's special." "No one, nothing could be as special as you." Though she'd never simpered, Wilda had seen other girls do it, so she did her best to imitate what they'd done. From the king's pleased look, she succeeded. He reached his hand across the table and covered hers. Conjuring up a blush was clearly impossible, even with her witch talents, so she looked demurely down at the food remaining on her plate. Seeing the sliced fruit in a separate dish, a thought struck her. She eased her hand free, selected a slice of blue melon and offered it to him with her bare fingers. He leaned forward and she slid it between his parted lips. He liked the idea so well that he took a slice and offered it to her in the same way. She opened her mouth, allowing her lips to touch his fingers as he slipped in the melon. The sudden heat in his gaze showed her she'd kindled his smoldering lust. She resumed eating, taking care to cast an occasional sidelong glance his way. Flirting didn't come naturally to her--thank Litha she'd always been observant of others. Finishing the food on her plate, she took a final sip of wine. When she noticed him staring at her cleavage, she caressed the silver pendant between her breasts. "A family heirloom?" his voice was husky. "Yes." For all she knew the pendant might be someone's family heirloom. "I'm very attached to it." "I can only wish you were as attached to me." She tried another simper, along with a slight shrug that exposed a bit more cleavage. He rose, moved to her side and extended his hand to help her rise. As they approached the closed door, the servant waiting beside it threw it open for them to pass through. King Kress didn't acknowledge the man in any way, which she supposed might be the way monarchs were accustomed to treating those who served them. If he expected blind obedience from her, he was due for a surprise. "I feel so confined inside all this stone," she said wistfully. "How I long for the outdoors." "We shall stroll in the gardens." Wilda exaggerated her sigh. "Where we are still walled in." But she allowed him to lead her to the entrance to the gardens. Instead of following them, Kane scampered away, deserting her. She breathed in the sweet scent of night-blooming blossoms growing on a twining vine that scaled those walls. The smaller moon showed a tiny crescent, the larger wasn't due to rise until this one had set. Tiny lights blinked on and off amidst the shrubbery, glow insects announcing their availability. She hoped she'd shown him she was approachable tonight, if not really available.

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When he paused beside the fountain to draw her into his arms, she allowed herself to be held and kissed, a privilege she hadn't granted up until now. How warm his lips felt as they caressed hers. Warm and enjoyable. Wilda emerged from the long embrace shaken by her own response. While she didn't hate the king, she had no warm feelings for him. Vorst was who she loved. How could she enjoy this man's kiss? It's because no man has ever held me tenderly, she told herself. While males in Tonapa had been attracted to her, none had come close to courtship, preferring to try to conquer her by brute force. She must go about this seduction very carefully to avoid it becoming a question of who was seducing whom. He wanted a plaything to assuage his lust. She wanted to convince him she was willing--but on her terms. Stepping back from him, she whispered, "I am quite overcome. If only we were not walled in I do believe I might succumb to your persuasion." "Let me hold you, beautiful one." Wilda retreated. "I can't. Not when I'm smothered by the walls. The stone surrounding me destroys the romance." "Romance?" She flung her arms wide. "If ever I agree to allow you make love to me, it must be romantic, under the stars, away from your castle and its grounds." "A romantic witch?" She allowed her voice to take on a nuance of anger. "After all, I am a woman. As a maiden I need to feel free to offer myself to a man. I cannot ever feel free locked within stone. There is no romance in that. None at all." Whirling away, Wilma hurried into the castle and sought her room. Chapter 7 Once in her bed, Wilda couldn't sleep. She must not allow herself to relish any kiss or caress from King Kress. Yet she had already done just that. How could she continue to lure him on without getting her own feelings involved? Just because she'd never been courted by a man was no excuse. She didn't love him. And the king didn't love her any more than he loved the maiden who would become his queen. He was marrying for the good of the kingdom, which was reasonable for a monarch. Let him then expend his lust on his bride-to-be. My need is to free myself from confinement in the castle so I can tend to my real love, Vorst. My only reason for dallying with the king is to find a route for escape. I don't need to find pleasure in the doing. Kane leaped up onto the bed and settled himself on top of the coverlet at her side. As she stroked his soft fur, drowsiness crept up on her and she was almost asleep when she heard a grating sound. Kane sat up and growled. Although the room door wasn't locked, Wilda had set a single person spell so that only Koda could open it from the hall side. Not the door, then. Coming alert, Wilda sat up in bed. The few coals remaining in the grate lent little light, but enough to see a dark figure cross in front of the fireplace.

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"Stop!" she commanded, at the same time gathering her power. "Whoever you are, you have not been invited here." "I believe I've been assured of my welcome." The king's voice. Wilda held back the jolt of power she'd aimed at the intruder. "You are wrong." She infused the words with ice. "I admit no man to my bedchamber. How did you gain entrance?" "Did you not know all castles have secret passageways." She could tell he'd come closer. "Am I to believe you've become a sneakthief?" "I have no need to steal what you know in your heart you're willing to give me." Kane spat and jumped off the bed. "Ow! Damn the beast." "I hope he drew blood. Get out of my room. Now." Instead, the king sat on her bed. "May the Almighty One blast that cat. He clawed my ankle." She slid away from him. "The Goddess will keep Kane safe. Which is more than she'll do for you. Go, before I lose my temper." He chuckled, reached out his arm and caught her by the shoulder. Then he was beside her, pulling her next to him, so close she felt the extent of his desire. She turned her face from his kiss. "You intend to take me by force, then." "You know that's impossible." He spoke softly, his breath tickling her ear. "But I won't need to even try. Your response in the garden told me your true feelings." Though his warm breath sent arousing shivers along her spine, at the same time she fought to control her anger at his presumption. Craft, not rage would work best. "Please release me," she begged, adding a quiver to her voice. "My spirit will not allow me to make love within these walls. If I am to become yours, it must be in the open air, away from here. A maiden's first time should be her choice. As I am also a witch, I would choose a place of majesty and beauty, fit for a king, a spot where my spirit can soar free as we become one." His grip eased. "Where would this be?" "While you were ill, I spent much time in the wizard's tower searching for reading material for you. From the tower I viewed a splendid vista of nearby hills and my spirit longed to journey there." He let her go. "I'm not sure any witch can be trusted. If I consent, guards will accompany us." "I would prefer us to be alone, but I understand it is unwise for the King of Asra to venture from the castle without guards. If they must come along, I will do my best to tolerate them.'' Deciding to seal the bargain in a way he'd understand, she leaned close and kissed him. Again, she felt an unwelcome tinge of arousal, but instead of fighting it, used her own desire to convince him she meant to keep her part of their bargain.

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Eventually, realizing she might lose control, she pushed away and said, "Good night," in a voice far less firm than she would have liked. After the king left the same way he'd entered, Kane climbed onto the bed again. When she touched the cat she found his fur still raised. "Never mind, " she crooned, "soon we'll be free." Which made her remember she had to bring Kane with her. Easy enough on the trip to the hills, but after she changed? If she could change. Wilda took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She would. She had to. And, as a draig, she could carry Kane in a basket with a handle, the same basket he'd travel in with them to the hill. As if understanding her, he began to purr. *** ~ *** Two days later Wilda woke from a dream of Vorst lying injured and helpless, unable to forage for food or drink, slowly dying. Her cry of, "No!" startled the kitten into leaping off the bed and hiding under it. Shaken, she sat on the bed's edge, collecting herself. Preparations for the trip to the hills were well underway. Tomorrow the plan was to set off early. But would it be too late? Had her dream been a true one or did it arise from her own anxiety over Vorst?. She'd had no contact with him for many days now. Had Litha turned a deaf ear to her many prayers for his safety? Surely not. Never had a day dragged by so slowly. Since everyone would assume she would be returning to the castle after an overnight camp in the hills, she must travel lightly. Koda had provided her with a divided skirt for riding, that she would change when they arrived for a seductive gown to dazzle King Kress. She'd remove the boots that had been borrowed from one of the young men training as guards and go barefoot. Her riding clothes she'd pack under the small blanket in Kane's basket, in case she needed to be human at some later time. The chain and pendant containing the amethyst would be stowed with the clothes. She'd convinced herself the gem couldn't be necessary for her to make the change, since she hadn't owned it in Ely the first time she'd shifted into another form. But what exactly was necessary for the change. Was it as simple as a strong emotion? The first time it had been fear and rage at her attackers. The second time she'd been angry at Vorst. What would happen the third time? When at last she retired to her bed that night, she couldn't sleep until she finally evoked the only drowsy spell she knew, a small one, but enough for her to ease into slumber. ***

~

***

In the morning Wilda took Kane's white paw and held it between her hands as she confided her plan to him. "So when I change," she finished, "if you're not in your basket, you must leap in, remain quiet and not be afraid." He licked her hand, which she hoped meant he understood. She then lifted him into the basket, closed the lid and latched it, before carrying the basket down to the courtyard where six guards were already mounted. To her dismay she saw they

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were armed with bows and quivers of arrows. But what had she expected, since their duty was to guard the king? King Kress eyed the basket and frowned. "I don't know why you feel you must carry that vicious little beast with you." "I've explained how Kane and I are bonded. Where I go, he goes." The king shook his head, but said nothing more as he waved to a groom to help her mount the white harther she was to ride. As they rode through the gate, Wilda took a deep breath of the brisk morning air, knowing the sun would warm up the day. How good it felt to be outside those stone walls. If she could help it, she would never be trapped behind walls like that again. She held the basket containing Kane on her lap, with a leather strap attached to her waist and the handle. The cat would know her, whatever form she took, but would he take to Vorst? She dismissed all worries from her mind, since there was nothing she could do about them at the moment, and set herself to entertain the king while she enjoyed the trip to the hills. "Do you remember what I read to you about your ancestor who changed into a beast with the aid of the Shaping Stone?" she asked. "Barth was clearly mad and far better off dead. Sickly children who live to become adults often turn to dark acts. As well that mage from Onalee took away such a dangerous stone." "I have never heard of Onalee before reading about your ancestors. The chronicles say it's by the sea. Do you know where that kingdom is?" "From all accounts the sea is far to the west. In my time no one has traveled there from Asra. Rumors abound, of course. As the tales go, Onalee is ruled not by a king, but by a mage. Some say the draigs originally came from there. A place to be avoided." "Because of the draigs?" "More because of the mages. Draigs can be killed, as my archers have proven. Mages are far more dangerous." She controlled her upset. Vorst wasn't dead, he couldn't be. "Surely the mage from Barth's time cannot still live." "I doubt it. Still, mages live longer than mortals." He waved a dismissive hand. "Let us speak of other matters." She made an effort. "Such as the pleasant day?" He smiled at her. "I believe the evening will prove to be somewhat more than pleasant." "Oh, yes!" But she hoped in a different manner than he expected. ***

~

***

The entourage reached the top of the flat hill--Litha's Table, it was called--as the sun lowered. Two of the archers set up a large tent for the king, then joined their fellows in a temporary camp a short distance away. Inside the tent, Wilda smelled

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the scent of wood-smoke from their fire as she opened the basket to set Kane free for a time. "Don't go far," she cautioned as he left the tent. "Do you really believe that cat understands?" the king asked. She gave him a sidelong look. "I am a witch." He chuckled. "For healing, I agree. Your other powers haven't manifested themselves." "There's been no occasion." "Even though I require you to remain with me?" "I would do nothing to harm you." He reached for her then, but she evaded him, and began laying out provisions that had traveled with them onto a cloth she'd spread for that purpose. The king produced a bottle of wine from his saddle bag and poured it into the silver goblets she'd set onto the cloth. "We shall drink to the evening that awaits us," he said, raising his goblet and touching it to hers. Wilda added, "Under the stars," and raised the goblet to her lips, but only pretended to sip. He raised his eyebrows. "In the open?" "That was my agreement." "I can't promise no one will see." "Perhaps I will blind those who dare to watch." The king stared at her and set down his goblet. "The men deserve to be warned." After he left the tent, Wilda quickly exchanged her riding clothes for the gown in the basket. She removed the chain and pendant, laying it among the riding clothes and placed everything under the cat's blanket. The boots she would leave behind. As if she'd summoned him, Kane slipped back into the tent and climbed into the basket. "My smart little cat," she crooned, dropping a piece of meat inside before closing the lid. Then she hurried to a corner of the tent and poured the wine from her goblet onto the ground. When the king returned to the tent, he found her smiling as she waited for a refill. "You took off your pendant," he said as he poured the wine. She tried for a husky tone. "I didn't want anything to come between us." Interpreting the sudden blaze in his eyes, she sank gracefully to one of the rugs on the floor tent. "Shall we dine first?" Without waiting for his answer, she bit into one of the golden fruits waiting on the cloth in front of her. "These have such a delicious tang." He eased down beside her. Before he could make a move, she handed him one. "Do try this. They are at a peak of ripeness." "As you are." But he accepted the fruit. Though she felt too keyed up to be hungry, Wilda made a pretense of eating because she needed true dark before venturing out of the tent. When she could see

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the glimmer of stars in the night sky through the open tent flap, she rose, bringing her wine goblet with her, picking up the basket as she passed it.. "Shall we drink to the stars?" she murmured. He frowned at the basket, but picked up a fur blanket and followed her outside, where they touched goblets. "To a night to remember." He downed his wine and flung the goblet from him. She took a sip, then set hers down and strolled closer to the far edge of Litha's Table, the hill's name giving her hope the Goddess watched over her. Would Litha help her? She stopped and put the basket on the ground. The king gestured at it. "Is that necessary?" "Probably not. But this will be my first time and the basket holds items besides Kane, women's nostrums I may need--after." He looked bewildered, as men often did when confronted with women's needs, finally shrugging and laying out the fur blanket a short distance from the basket. When he finished and turned to her, she murmured, "This gown has so many tiny buttons down the back--I need your help." She'd used a minor spell to fasten them all without his help earlier, but she counted on his bemusement and obvious arousal to keep him from wondering how she'd gotten into the gown.. As he undid the gown button by button, he placed tiny kisses on each inch of bare flesh revealed. Her resolve not to be affected by any of his caresses grew weaker with each touch of his lips. His breathing grew heavier when he'd unfastened enough of them to realize she was naked beneath the gown. When it finally slithered from her body to pool at her feet, she stepped free of the cloth, kicked it aside and turned slowly to face him. For a moment he stood unmoving, then he reached out and skimmed his hands along both sides of her body, brushing against the edges of her breasts. Now her breath came faster. A dark thread of anger joined with her mounting desire--anger at herself for feeling as she did. How could she betray Vorst by enjoying this man's caresses? She didn't love the king, this was no more than lust. And yet--yet, she wanted to be in his arms, she ached for his kiss. His hand closed around her breast and she gasped. Along with the thrill arising from his touch came a scarlet spurt of rage at her own need. Her head began to whirl and she trembled. Belatedly realizing was happening, she eased back from the king and took a step toward the basket. And then she--changed. Caught in the pain of adjusting, she lost sight of the king. When she could focus again, he was racing toward the tent, shouting for his men. The white draig she'd become picked up the basket, lumbered to the edge of the flat-topped hill, spread her wings and thrust herself into space. This time she knew how to lift herself into the air and soon she rose above the hill and headed for the spires in the distance that marked the site of the caves. An arrow whizzed past and struck her in the front leg, the one holding the basket. The shock of pain almost made her lose her grip, but she managed to transfer what she carried to the other side. She flew on, in pain, but grateful she hadn't been struck somewhere vital.

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How had the guards with their weapons gotten to the cliff edge so quickly? Even as she asked the question she had the answer. The king hadn't quite trusted her after all. He'd secretly brought his bow and arrows with him and concealed them among his belongings in the tent. He'd been the archer; his arrow had struck her. A two-way betrayal. Chapter 8 When the white draig at last landed by the once-secret pool where she'd been taken prisoner as a human, she set down the basket and examined her wounded foreleg. Finding the arrow embedded in her flesh, but not past the ends of the head, she jerked it free, a grunt of pain escaping her. Wilda? The joy of Vorst's mind send almost made her forget the pain of her wound. "I escaped by becoming a draig and flying away from King Kress. I landed by the pool. How do I find you?" Out of practice, she spoke aloud as she sent the message. He and his men will follow you here, so we must remain hidden in my secret place. To get here you'll have to come through the croma cave. That's what protected me from being tracked by the king's men. Are you hurt? It's nothing. And it wasn't compared to that arrow wound in his wing. Or whatever other injuries he'd received since. I killed most of the cromas some time ago, but left a few alive to guard against discovery of this place. No human goes up against a croma willingly, but since you're a draig, you can come through. Try to avoid being bitten, but if you are, their poison does not kill draigs. Do not look in their eyes. Wilda swallowed. Cromas were the most vicious and poisonous of all crawlers. As a draig, would her spell against crawlers work? Even if it did, would any spell she knew be strong to affect a croma? Obviously she'd find out. Tell me the way, Vorst. I long to be with you. There is someone with you now. Startled she looked quickly around. Nothing. No one. Then she remembered the basket. Kane is with me. He's a cat. We sense each other, Kane and I. I've told him he's welcome and that he need not fear me. I would come for you, but we'll be together sooner if you follow my directions and come to me. This is what you must do . . . Wilda committed his directions to memory, then made her way to the cave entrance, discovering how different the inside looked through draig's eyes. For one thing she could now see better in the darkness, though not perfectly. Keeping careful count of how many steps she took, she found herself at the fork leading to the croma cave. Her draig-increased sense of smell alerted her to their foul odor when she neared their cave. Inside the basket, Kane began to growl. Plodding on, soon she spotted a croma's yellow eyes in the darkness. One. Then another. She surrounded herself with a crawler spell and kept moving, while Kane continued to growl. Neither croma attacked, though she sensed at least one of

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them followed her as she picked up her pace, still counting. Twenty more steps and she'd be out of their cave. She'd almost reached that count when she saw another set of yellow eyes, Kane hissed and then she felt a prick in her wounded foreleg. Bitten. Keeping a shaky hold on the crawler spell, she hurried as fast as she could, not daring to drop the spell until she knew she had to be beyond any croma haunts. At last Kane's silence let her believe she was safe, though the wound now throbbed painfully. You are close. Fifty more steps will bring you to me. Desperate to reach him, she realized she was slowing no matter how hard she tried to hurry. Croma bit me, she sent. Right foreleg. Almost immediately he was there in front of her, amethyst eyes glowing. If they'd both been human, she would have thrown herself into his arms. As it was, she struggled to follow him as he led her the rest of the way into the secret place. She could no longer think clearly, words slipped in and out of her head--Shaping Stone, Shaping Stone--making no sense. Wilda staggered into his cave and fell over on her side, no longer aware of anything. ***

~

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Vorst greatly feared he might lose her. What could he do to prevent it? Acting on impulse, he thrust his tongue into the open wound on her right foreleg-surely not all due to a croma bite--then washed his tongue in the trickle of water from a spring seeping from between the rocks. He repeated this over and over until a shrill complaint from the basket she'd dropped caught his attention and he remembered Kane. Pausing, he set the cat free and resumed laving her wound. The cat scurried to her face and began licking her snout. Wilda sneezed and opened her eyes. "Vorst," she murmured. "Kane." Vorst thought his heart would burst with joy, but all he sent was, Your wound is from an arrow? Yes. The croma scented your blood and struck there. Hurts. I cannot take away the pain, but the spring in this cave is part of the water that fills the pool outside. Healing water. It saved my life. The arrow came from the king's bow. Fire burned deep within Vorst, kindling a desire to blast the king to cinders for daring to wound Wilda. Perhaps I deserved his arrow for my dark spell that caused his illness. I won't ever cast such a spell again. I cannot forgive him. Now you must move nearer to the water so it can trickle over your wound.

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Wilda dragged herself over the rock floor and Vorst arranged her foreleg so the cool water could reach the wound. Ah, that helps. And heals. Beside her, Vorst noticed her close her eyes and knew the pain was easing as it had for him weeks before. Stretching out beside her, he curled his tail around hers. The little cat snuggled up by her neck, making a tiny rumbling sound Vorst understood meant contentment. He'd be content as well, but as long as they remained here, their safety was an illusion. The only other caves he knew of were by the sea. He'd never been there, but he knew the journey would be long-three or four nights, perhaps more. Tonight neither of the moons would rise--moon dark. Their only chance for escape. He still limped, but he had no doubt he'd be able to fly. Could Wilda? She had to, because they couldn't stay here and starve--he'd eaten all the dried food he'd hidden in this place in case of danger. Worse, the king and his men would soon be here and they must leave before then. He let her sleep for a time before rousing her. We must go. Put Kane in the basket and I'll carry him during our flight. Wilda asked no questions as she followed him up a rocky incline at the side rear of the secret cave and up into the narrow opening, hardly large enough for a draig to squeeze through, that led to the cliff above. At the top, Vorst eased up the boulder that hid the opening and looked around. What? she asked No one close by, but moving torches show men heading down into the valley and others coming our way. Let me out. Even at moon dark they'll soon spot your whiteness. I can help. Let me out. He set the boulder aside, climbed out and she followed. Shutting out the sight of the torches moving toward them, Wilda began tracing designs in the air, muttering the words Renz had used and she had memorized. If Litha willed, her clawed hands would be close enough to human hands to make his spell work. Just as she finished, she heard a man shout and then mist closed in around them, cloaking them from view. Thank you, Litha. And thanks to Renz as well. Clever Wilda. When you launch into the air, fly high to avoid the pinnacles. Will the mist follow us? For a time. At least it hadn't lasted too long when Renz had conjured the mist. So we'll stay high until it dissipates. I have Kane, he'll be with us. Wilda felt her way to the edge of the cliff, took a deep breath and launched herself into the air. For a moment the mist disoriented her and she couldn't be sure whether she was going up, sideways or down. Vorst? Right beside you. Keep climbing.

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When she realized she could sense his presence next to her in the mist, her fears faded. Soon she made out stars above her and moments later the mist was gone. Where are we headed? she asked. To Hulda's. She does not fear draigs and will help hide us. She doesn't live in Asra, but we cannot trust any human, except for her. Does she live in a cave? In a house, but she has a shed for her milch big enough for the two of us. We surely can't share it with the milch. Hulda will take care of it. We can rest there before we head west. Toward the sea caves? Certainly they could never go back to the caves in Asra. Are you tiring? he asked. Your wound-Is nearly healed, thanks to the magic water. Oh, Vorst, it's so good to be free of those castle walls and to be back with you. Did they try to harm you there? Were you threatened by the king? She felt the anger in his send. No. I revoked my dark spell and that cured him, so everyone was happy. But he didn't want to let me leave. Sometime she'd confess all, but not now, when it might dim the joy of being together. Sure. Take the coward's way out. But nothing really happened. Didn't it? Now that I'm a draig with Vorst, a man's caresses mean nothing to me. But does that mean you've forgotten them? Enough! Wilda concentrated on the wonder of flying, the rush of air beneath her wings as she sailed across the sky under the stars. She was a draig now, and she loved it. ***

~

***

No matter how much she loved flying, she was ready to land and rest long before sunrise, when Vorst sent the welcome message that they were nearing Hulda's. Follow me. We'll set down in the meadow near her house. As Wilda followed his spiraling pattern in order not to land too abruptly, she wondered just how many miles they'd traveled. Who could have dreamed she'd become a draig who could fly through the night? She'd become more competent in landing, but she still found it more difficult than taking off or flying. As she settled onto the grassy meadow beside Vorst, she eyed a hopper fleeing away from them and felt her stomach rumble with hunger. Will this woman feed us? Considering a draig's appetite, that would be too much to ask. We'll forage for ourselves this coming night. This way. He set off across the meadow toward a small house with several outbuildings flanking it. Before they reached it, Wilda saw an old woman advancing toward them, no doubt Hulda.

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"I knew you were coming, Vorst" the woman said. "I'm pleased you've found a companion." She smiled at Wilda. "And a pretty one as draigs go. The shed is free for you to hide in, for my milch is at a neighbor's being bred. My foster son, Raoul, took her there yesterday and is staying over till she accepts the bull. She's a picky one, she is." So she understands mind send? Wilda asked Vorst. No. But she foresees what is to come ahead of time. Ah, a far-seer like my friend Petra back in Tonapa. "Fixed a mammoth stew for you two, I did," Hulda went on as they followed her toward the shed. I can afford to feed you only this once, but--" Her voice died away when Kane began caterwauling from inside the basket. "You don't mean to tell me you got a cat in there! Now, that's someone I didn't know was coming." Vorst stopped to open the lid, Kane leaped out and onto the ground. "Why he's but a kit." Hulda bent over to lower her fingers for Kane to sniff, then straightened. "Smart little one, letting me know he was hungry, too. What are two draigs doing with a kitten, I wonder?" She gave Wilda a long, penetrating look before going on again. When they reached the shed, they found a large kettle of stew inside and two pails of water. "'Tis the best I could do on short notice. You can pick out some meat for the cat." Vorst reached into the basket and brought out a gold coin which he gave to Hulda. "Huh! You know I'd do what I could for you without pay. But since the stories say all draigs guard treasure, I'll accept and I thank you. Best I get on with my work, I've no time to be idle. May you have a good rest, you, Vorst and you, Witch." With that, Hulda closed the shed door and left them. How could she know? Wilda asked. Hulda has other talents, and she has her own cat. Reminded of Kane's presence, Wilda fished chucks of meat out of the kettle and set them on the floor of the shed. Then she joined Vorst in eating Hulda's very good stew directly from the kettle. When all was gone, she decided the meal had at least taken the edge off her appetite. Vorst settled onto the shed floor. We will leave tonight, before the boy comes back with the milch. Better that he not know about us. Which reminds me--I didn't know you'd put that gold coin in the basket. One of many, collected over a time. I do have the draig's urge to hoard treasure. She eased down near by and nestled close to him. He sighed and wrapped his tail around hers. Kane was still prowling about the shed, perhaps hunting mice. But why do we need gold? Humans thirst for coins. Not from a draig, of course, but sooner or later you will have to change back. No! I'm now a draig.

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He chuckled. And a very pretty one, as Hulda said. But the time will come when we need things that only money will buy. Then you will need to be human to give coin for goods or services. He nuzzled her neck. Right now, we need to rest. She wanted more of the nuzzling, but sleep crept up and ambushed her. Her dreams were as dark as the inside of the windowless shed, for a strange and dangerous power sought to ensorcel both her and Vorst. Not being human, he was immune, but she was caught in a web of sorcery as difficult to escape from as the river spinner's web. ***

~

***

They roused in the evening, cracked the door to let Kane out and left it ajar so he could return. Wilda drank the remaining water in her pail, then complained, I'm hungry. As I am. With luck we'll find prey during our flight. Flying west means we must be heading for the sea caves. Will we reach Onalee by morning? No. So we must find a place to hide before morning. Thick woods would offer the best chance. As evening eased into night, Hulda came by to see them off just as Wilda was settling Kane into the basket. "No kit nor cat would be so obedient were you not a witch," Hulda commented. "Draigs are not known to be witches, so you are not always a draig, which means you have great power. Use it wisely. My son, a twisted wizard, died from his misuse of power." Wilda wished she could assure the old woman that she'd already learned a costly lesson about dark power, but she could not, so she merely nodded. Hulda stayed to watch them make a running launch across the meadow into the air, her "Fare-thee-well," floating to them on the night breeze. Once in the air, Wilda felt the now familiar exhilaration of flying. As they rose higher, she noticed a thin crescent on the horizon--the larger moon coming up. Little light would shine from the meager slice of it, but it wouldn't be quite the same as moon dark. She'd noted before that the stars in this alien land were not Tonapa's familiar ones, but she'd never noticed the singular constellation they flew toward resembled a gigantic arrow. Bad omen? She hadn't told Vorst about her dream, and the memory of it, plus the arrow they headed for, nagged at her. Had the dream been a foretelling of sorts? Are there archers in Onalee? she asked. I would suppose so. All kingdoms need weapons to defend those who live there. Archers have other uses than for hunting draigs. There aren't supposed to be any draigs left in Onalee, though. This means the archers must have killed them all. Long ago, I believe. Since neither of us have ever been there, we'll have to wait to find what the prevailing winds tell us about the place.

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After a time, she sent decided to bring up something she'd been thinking abut off and on ever since Vorst had mentioned it. You told me draigs mate in the air. True. And I find keeping my mind away from mating with you extremely difficult. A thrill shot through her. So? Mating takes great concentration for both partners. We're at risk until we find a safe place of our own. We can't afford to lose ourselves in love when doing so is dangerous. Fire suddenly shot from his mouth, startling her. Speaking of mating tests my control. Seeing his flame-out certainly tested her control. Look below. Wilda peered earthward and saw the flickering light of fire and inhaled the faint scent of wood smoke with a unpleasant tinge of something else. What do they burn? One of their own. In Tonapa she'd heard of sects that burned their dead. Oh, a funeral pyre. No. A demon burning. Taken aback she didn't send for a several moments. But Litha assures us there are no demons. Whether your Goddess is right or not, those below believe in demons and they also believe burning is the only way to drive a demon from a human body. That would kill the human! It's not wise to venture into the land of demon believers. Or to mate above it. They flew on in silence until all hint of the fire and its smell were left far behind. The trees are thickening beneath us. Soon we'll be over wooded country. But we'll wait until we reach true forest, a place where humans rarely venture. There we'll be safe and can rest. As well as find food. Wilda wondered if she'd be able to kill and eat an animal. Raw. Her draig body told her that's what she needed, but the draig's mind was Wilda's as well, part of it being human. Well, she'd find out when the time came. When at last Vorst told her they'd land, false dawn was beginning to lighten the darkness. She followed him down to land in a small glade where thick-trunked trees with heavy branches crowded close around the tiny grassy clearing. She immediately felt that many eyes watched them from those trees. Reminding herself that she was larger and more dangerous than any predator she knew about, she tried to forget about being watched. Yet she was relieved when Vorst pushed his way between two trunks, heading into the forest proper. In the trees, rather than ringed by them, she relaxed a bit. Look for a place we can defend. She didn't ask against what, deciding she didn't want to know at the moment. Instead she used her enhanced draig vision to peer into the gloom under the trees. Vorst sensed her edginess, but said nothing. His brave Wilda would stand beside him if necessary. He hoped there be no need for that, though he knew it was

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possible a cheringer might haunt this forest. With luck there wasn't one anywhere around here and he wouldn't have to scare Wilda by telling her about that ghastly menace. Chapter 9 They finally settled into an old three-sided ruin with no roof, trees crowding around it, and, Wilda, feeling safe, promptly fell asleep. Her dreams were pleasant enough until she suddenly found herself alone in darkness, hearing something that filled her with dread. She woke abruptly when Kane stuck his claws in her neck and the sound-- sort of a snuffling chomp--became reality. A ghastly smell accompanied the strange noise. Vorst! Wake up! What? What's wrong? Before she could reply, something leaped down from the top of the ruined wall to their left aiming to land on Vorst. She opened her mouth and shot fire at the creature, who veered away, narrowly missing Vorst. As he blasted the clawed monster with fire, he sent her a message. Cheringer. Poisonous. Burn it. Easier said than done, as the beast leaped agilely away from their flames. Corner it. Wilda shifted her position, angling for a spot away from Vorst so the two of them might be able to drive the cheringer into a corner, but it moved more quickly than a draig. Its stench curdled her stomach. Her throat felt raw from the flames. How long could she keep pouring fire forth? What would happen if they both ran out of fire? Suddenly Kane let out a high-pitched yowling screech, startling her, and apparently the cheringer as well, because it whirled about to locate the noise. Vorst took advantage of the thing's momentary distraction and caught it square on with a flaming blast. The cheringer howled and fled to escape his fire, Wilda cut it off with her own flame and drove the beast into a corner. There they were able to concentrate their attack until only a roasted, stinking mass remained. Only then did she realize the sun was half-way up the sky. Kane crept out from behind a pile of tumbled stones and began to groom himself. Climb in the basket, little one, Vorst sent. Danger lies in remaining here-they travel in pairs. With no easy way to launch into the air, they were forced to travel through the forest. The going was slow because of their size until Vorst found a trail of sorts. No telling where this leads, but we have to take the risk. Wilda soon found draigs were not designed to cover long distances on foot. Besides the slow going, the thick growth hampered the wind. Though vagrant breezes ruffled the crowns of leaves over their heads, little reached them. Thirst plagued her. Just when she thought she couldn't take another step, to her right she heard the burble of water flowing over stones.

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Vorst turned off the path, forcing his way through thickets that bordered the stream. As soon as they reached the water, both she and Vorst waded in and crouched down to drink. Kane, let out of the basket, edged close to the stream and daintily lapped water. He then pounced on a small rodent. Watching him eat his kill, Wilda's stomach rumbled with hunger, the draig overcoming any human squeamishness. She began to watch for fish. When she caught the first one, she ate it without thinking and found the raw fish delicious. So were the others she caught, and also the thirsty hopper that ventured too close to the stream. Vorst finished what he caught and sent, We'll go up the stream until we find a stretch straight enough to launch into the air. There was much more room at Hulda's to launch. Draigs don't need much room, only a narrow open stretch. You'll have no trouble. She hoped he was right. We'll be seen flying in daylight. True. Can't be helped. With Kane back in the basket, they set off. Rounding a curve in the stream, they came unexpectedly on an old man sitting on the bank, fishing. He gaped at them as they passed, almost dropping his pole. "I'll be skullywoggled," he muttered. "Never saw such a sight in all my born days. Two draigs, the bigger one carrying a picnic basket, and nary a witness to back me up." Wilda was surprised that he didn't seem more afraid. "O' course 'tis impossible, what I see, 'tis some magicking, that's what." Apparently he didn't believe his own eyes. Just past the man, Vorst stopped. Ease around me and launch. When she got in front of him, she noticed the stream stretched straight on into the distance. Holding to the belief she could do it, Wilda splashed ahead as rapidly as she could, and began to flap her wings. It seemed to take forever before she felt any lift, then all at once she was rising. Flying. Moments later Vorst appeared beside her, basket in hand. She wondered what the old man thought about seeing them in the air where draigs were supposed be, beautiful in flight. They skimmed over the forest, heading toward the rise of mountains to their left. The sea is a ways beyond, Vorst sent. Near the mountains is a mage tower. We must reach it, for we'll be safe there. In Wilda's experience, mages could be dangerous. Can this mage be trusted? Yes. He created me. She stared at him. Yes, he'd told her that he and Blanca were mage-created, but Vorst was so real to her she'd set that aside, put it out of her mind. Reminded, she had to think about what Vorst was again. How could she love a mere creation? He lives with Zareen, a Verbot Virgin from your land. Wilda was aghast. You mean he ensorceled her? She's with him willingly. They fell in love.

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A Verbot Virgin set aside her vows for a mage? Wilda had trouble believing it. Uneasily she wondered what the mage might do to Vorst. And her. ***

~

***

Near dusk, when they neared the mountains, Vorst swooped low and she followed while he pointed out a tower below. Looking down, she saw the tower didn't stand alone as mage towers usually did, but was part of a large dwelling. Various outbuildings scattered about the dwelling. He circled, dived toward a field near the house and landed. Still unsure this was wise, she set down beside him. She started when a message hurtled into her mind. Vorst, welcome! I thought never to see you again. I take it you've come to show me your mate. Zareen and I have something to show you, too. We'll meet in the garden behind the house. As they made their way to the garden, Wilda wondered if the mage knew she'd heard what he'd sent to Vorst. By the time they arrived, a tall brown-haired man was standing beside a pretty blond woman who sat in an outside chair. She was holding a--yes, a baby who looked to be several months old. Imagine a Verbot Virgin with a baby! "Meet Liam, my proudest creation," the mage said aloud. He looked directly at Wilda, blinked and narrowed his eyes. "What have we here?" "A most attractive white draig, love," Zareen said. "I think more than that." Be first to attack, Wilda reminded herself. My name is Wilda, she sent. A witch. "Ah, my dear," he told Zareen, "she is also a witch. Zareen smiled at her. "A pleasure to meet such a thoughtful witch. Vorst must have been lonely without any other draigs around. I hope both of you will stay with us for a time." Wilda decided she liked the woman. A plaintive cry came from the basket Vorst had set onto the grass, and he opened the lid. Kane leaped out, sniffed the air, looked around, ambled over to where Zareen sat and raised his one white paw. "Let Liam see the cat," the mage said. "And let the cat see him." When Zareen held the baby closer to Kane, Liam reached out and grabbed at the paw. Before the baby's little hand could squeeze shut, Kane eased his paw away, but the two had made contact. Wilda gazed curiously at the tiny blond boy. What had Kane seen in him? To her surprise, the baby looked up into her eyes and smiled. "I had wondered," the mage said, nodding at Kane. "Thank you, Sir Cat." He turned to his wife. "We have a son more unusual than I imagined." "Of course he's unusual. He's ours." She rose from the chair and handed Liam to his father. "Our guests must be hungry and thirsty and tired. It's time to care for their needs. I'll have Erka bring the food out here for our friends." She smiled at the both of them and headed for the house.

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She's right, the mage sent. I'll wait until morning to pick your brains. I don't know your plans, but stay here as long as you wish. And feel free to talk to each other, I promise not to listen in. Wilda watched with dismay as Kane followed the mage all the way into the house. Do you trust him? I know you can't lie, but mages tend to be tricky. He will do what he says. He won't listen. She hoped so. Kane went with them instead of staying with us. I don't like that. He laid his neck over hers. Like us, the cat has free will. Relishing his touch, she did her best not to be upset about Kane. In the king's castle, he'd come to her when she needed him. Perhaps now he knew Liam needed him more. It's true we don't know what dangers await on the other side of the mountains. If Kane wishes to stay here, I should feel glad he'll be safe. But you'll miss him. So will I. She snuggled against Vorst.. Soon Erka, a huge, lumbering fellow, brought four haunches of meat and two large cooked flyers which he set onto the grass, then grinned at them. "Never thought to see a draig and here are two of you. Eat up, my woman's cooking a big vat of soup for another course. She said to tell you she fed your cat." He nodded at a fountain splashing at the far end of the garden. "Lots of water there." When they finished eating they meandered down to the fountain, which drained into a small pond. After quenching their thirst, she looked into Vorst's amethyst eyes and saw he needed what she did. As one, they plunged into the pond, splashing happily about as the cool water soothed and cleansed their scales. Afterwards, they picked a grassy spot not far from the fountain, wound themselves together and slept. Though it was not much larger than a crescent, the large moon's pale light woke Vorst. He nuzzled Hilda, happy she was close to him and they were safe in this temporary refuge. When she opened her eyes and nuzzled him back, her tongue flicking over his face, another emotion surfaced. He rubbed his body against her, the feel of scale sliding over scale heating him. Oh, Vorst, that feels so good, so breathtaking. We're safe here, he sent. A thrill shot through him when she sent. Then let's fly. High. Higher than the mountain peaks. Yes, oh, yes. The long and wide stretch of grass made a good launching pad and they took off together, circling up and up as his desire mounted higher and higher. When the tallest peaks were below them he overflew her, and, keeping the bulk of his weight just above her, found her female entrance hot, moist and ready for him. When he thrust into her, indescribable lightning-like sensations raced through every part of him, even down to the end of his tail. He rumbled in pleasure. The wonder of their mating consumed him with fire, making him unaware of his wings flapping automatically, keeping them aloft. Her excited rumbling joined

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his, making him understand she felt as he did and he gloried in the knowledge. His love. His Wilda. He would never let her go. Despite King Kress' overtures, as a woman, Wilda had never mated with a man. Whatever that might be like, she believed nothing could ever match this mating with Vorst, high in the night sky, over the mountain peaks. Inside her, he throbbed and pulsated, sending a flurry of fiery pleasure arrows everywhere. Even her scales thrummed to their mating music. She would hold him to her forever. A vibration began, unlike anything she'd ever felt before, twisting and circling inside her, melting her, erasing her mind, carrying her away in a violent burst that sent her somewhere she'd never been, where only Vorst and Wilda existed. More than pleasure, more than either of them, created by their joining. She heard her roar mingle with his, on and on, and on… Both of them realized they were dropping at the same moment, so they separated and set their wings to work to keep from smashing onto the peaks. They looked at each other and Vorst blew out a thin thread of flame. She did the same, crossing his with hers, understanding this was a draig vow, uniting them for life. ***~*** When she woke in the morning, Wilda, warm and snug against Vorst, turned to look at him. She longed to say they should stay here forever, climbing high each night to mate where they were safe. Vying with that urge was the tiny needle of doubt about any mage, a doubt she couldn't expunge. And where had her determination to find the Shaping Stone gone? Besides, draigs needed caves, and those were on the other side of the mountains. Where King Kress' archers would never find them. You have such beautiful eyes, she found herself sending instead. He chuckled. Is there nothing else you like about me? She kicked him. A moment later they were rolling around on the grass, wrestling with each other and enjoying every moment of it. Vorst sensed the mage's approach first. He comes. Wilda disentangled herself from Vorst. Another advantage of being a draig-they didn't blush. When the mage reached them, he sat on the grass and sent, In my pleasure at seeing Vorst again, as well as meeting his mate, I was less than polite. You offered me your name, Wilda, but I neglected to give you mine--Merl . Now it seems your cat wishes to stay with Liam. Kane feels Liam needs him more than I do. Ah. I wonder why, but suspect I'll have to wait to find out. Cats have their own magic. Do you know anything of the land over these mountains? Vorst asked. I've never visited Onalee, the land by the sea, but I know a very ancient mage used to dwell there. I doubt he still lives. Did you ever hear mention of a Shaping Stone? Wilda put in.

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Merl nodded. Legend has it such an artifact once existed. Whether it still does I have no idea. If we were to find this stone, would it be able to change Vorst to human? Merl blinked. Even I can't change Vorst, he must remain as I created him--a draig. If there is such a Shaping Stone, I can't predict what would happen if you tried to use it to change him. He might simply cease to exist. Wilda drew in her breath. You mean die? I don't know. Do remember, whatever happens that, as a draig, Vorst is wellnigh immortal. Should he ever become human, his life span would be measured in human years, not draig years. Like mine. Maybe not, if you remain a draig. Remembering last night and the joy of their mating high in the sky, Wilda thought that wouldn't be bad at all. And yet, a part of her longed for Vorst to have human arms to hold her, human lips to kiss her. She shook her head. Foolish. When you reach Onalee, though I doubt a mage lives there now, don't ever forget that even the kindest of mages can't be trusted. We trust you, Vorst protested. Merl sighed. But I created you on a whim, to try to seduce Zareen. I know. You created Blanca for the same reason. For all my shape-shifting and creating, Zareen didn't fall in love with me until I was myself. Even then I almost lost her when she discovered I wasn't the human man she thought I was, but a deceitful mage. Wilda nodded. Witches can be deceitful, too. I know I can be. But not with Vorst. Although she hadn't yet told him King Kress' efforts to seduce hadn't been all that distasteful. I hope you two will stay with us for a time. We plan to leave tomorrow. She looked at Vorst in surprise. We do? To get to the caves, we need to find a cave for our permanent home. Vorst couldn't lie, but did that mean he couldn't hold things back? That he always had to tell the complete truth? Somehow she felt what he'd said was only a partial truth. Chapter 10 Later that day, when evening shadows grew long, Before Zareen and Merle left them in the garden, Zareen said, "We'd like to keep the basket since Kane seems to feel it's his. " She held out a canvas bag with looped handles. "I transferred your human riding clothes and the other contents, including the silver pendant, to this." "Did that pendant come from Tonapa?" Merl asked. I found it in an Asra ruin, Vorst sent. Dirty, from being buried. "Did you know a draig is engraved on the cover?" Vorst glanced at Wilda. I did, but forgot to tell Vorst, she sent.

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"The pendant is very old and I felt a trace of magic when I held it." She looked at Merle with interest. I didn't. Being well aware mages had more power than she would ever have, she wasn't surprised. What kind of magic? "Ancient and not responsive to me. The amethyst inside also has some power that I assume can be accessed by you." A dark mage in Tonapa gave me the amethyst. I'm not sure why. "Treat both the pendant and the amethyst with care." Wilda nodded. Tell me why you gave Vorst amethyst eyes when you created him. Merle blinked and frowned. "I did, didn't I." He turned to Zareen, "Any idea why Vorst has amethyst eyes, darling?" "I'm neither a mage nor a witch and my powers are small and few, but I do have intuition to draw on. His eyes are amethyst because someday he would meet a witch with a magic amethyst and they would fall in love." They all stared at Zareen. She smiled. "I believe in the power of love." Merl put his arm around her waist, drew her close to him, then looked from Wilda to Vorst. "In case you leave before we rouse in the morning, we'll say farewell to you this evening. You know you're always welcome here. We deeply appreciate your gift of Kane." "And we'll always treat him with care and respect." Zareen said. "Fair and safe traveling, my friends." After the mage and his wife had left them alone in the garden, Wilda asked Vorst, Will we fly before we sleep? . I long to, but no. We must not mate again until we've found our cave and know it is safe. She didn't understand why and was about to say so, when she realized with a shock what he meant. When a man and woman mated, a baby could be the result. When a male and female draig mated--? Her eyes widened as she realized that even now--help me, Litha--she could be incubating a tiny draig. Or did draigs lay eggs? She rather thought they must. The idea unnerved her. Oh, Vorst, do you think we--I--? Draig instinct tells me a female's first mating rarely impregnates her. You are a draig, and yet not one, so we can't be sure what might happen. I should have thought about this sooner, but you are irresistible. Even now I want to be locked with you high above the earth. His words heated her. Yes, that's exactly where she wished to be, but… If she conceived a child, she would deliver a draig. In an egg, maybe, but a draig. Or maybe females laid more than one egg. Dear Goddess, she had no idea. Vorst wrapped himself around her, resting his head on her neck. She leaned into him, her head on his neck. How right she felt in his embrace. Would it be the same if he were changed to human? Or even more intense? Somehow she couldn't get the Shaping Stone out of her mind, dangerous as Merl's warning had made it seem.

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Before she slept, a tiny mew told her Kane had come to say farewell. She untangled herself from Vorst and bent her head down to look at the cat in the gathering darkness. He touched her on the nose with his white paw, then turned and sauntered away, tail in the air. She tried to fathom the uneasy feeling that had come from his touch. The faint idea of a draig rose in her mind. Herself? Vorst? If Kane had intended a warning, she had no notion of what. She had thought Vorst asleep, but, as the smaller moon rose half-full, he sent, We won't wait until dawn, we'll leave now, tonight. I'm willing, but why? His tail caressed her flank. We need a cave of our own as soon as possible. Wilda smiled inwardly, certain she knew why. Vorst picked up the canvas bag in his taloned hand and faced the straight stretch of lawn needed to launch. Next to him, she readied herself. Once in the air, they rose rapidly, gaining altitude to fly over the mountains. . Looking down as they cleared one tall peak, Wilda saw moonlight glinting off its snow covering. She breathed in the crisp, cold air, glorying in her ability to fly, and wondered why she'd ever thought of being a human again. Or trying to change Vorst into one if she found the Shaping Stone. He was at his most magnificent in flight, surely the most beautiful draig in this or any other world. Which reminded her of the draig engraving on her pendant. Hadn't Vorst told her something had drawn him to search in those ruins? If she ever took human form again, she would hold the pendant and ask Litha to help her interpret the magic within. As a witch, she knew nothing was random. Vorst was meant to find that pendant and meant to gift her with it. Therefore, she was meant to use its power. For what, she didn't yet know, but she felt sure the time would come. The mountains took a long time to cross over. The sky was lightening by the time they glided over foothills. As the sun peeked over the horizon, Wilda saw, in the distance, its dawn rays reflected in the sea. Onalee Where will we land? she sent. There should be sea caves farther on, but there could be some less damp in these rocky hills. We'll drop lower and search. Vorst circled, dropped and landed near a rocky prominence. I sense a cave, he told her when she settled down next to him. Follow me. He led her to an opening in the rock cliff, but told her to stay back while he investigated inside. Best to take to the air since I might drive varmints out. Some could be dangerous. Privately, Wilda thought she could take care of herself. After all, she was a draig, too. Vorst tended to think of her being as helpless as she had been as a human. But she launched herself into the air without arguing. She rose, flying seaward, careful to choose uninhabited areas below to avoid being spotted. How beautiful the sea looked with rays from rising sun tinting the water shades of gold and pink. In Tonapa, the places she'd lived, Ely and Mizpa, were nowhere near the sea. She'd never seen a body of water this large before and longed to fly above it. Instead she turned back, aware she'd flown some distance from the cave in daylight, in strange country. Both she and Vorst wanted no more trouble with earth dwellers if they could avoid it.

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As she made the turn, she caught a glimpse of something large and golden to her left. What? No ahver could be that big. Wilda swerved to get a better look. Dear Goddess--a draig! Somehow she knew it was a male. His scales were gold, he was immense, larger than Vorst, and he was heading straight for her. She increased her speed, flying as fast as she could toward the cave. He might mean her no harm, but she didn't dare take the chance. As she neared the cave, she felt something in her mind, not words but an image of--of… Horrified, she looked back and found the gold draig had not only caught up to her, but was above her, posed to complete what he'd mind sent. No! Never would she allow him to mate with her. Never. She dived almost straight down, seeing a flash of green as a mind send flashed to her. "Get in the cave and change. Hurry! She pulled out of the dive near the ground. Turning back to locate her pursuer, she spotted Vorst roaring as he challenged the strange draig. Change back to a human? She didn't want to. But it was wise to enter the cave, so she landed and went inside, turning at the entrance to see what was happening in the sky, she drew in her breath. Vorst and the gold draig dove at one another, talons extended, sending great gouts of flame. But Vorst was smaller, how could he possibly win? Wilda knew they fought over her. Over her. Over her as a female draig. If Vorst lost… Her fear of losing him combined with her terror of the gold draig claiming her as a mate, triggered the wrench that began a change. When finally she stood naked and shivering on the cold cave floor, the puniness of her human form upset her. Vorst had left the canvas bag near the cave entrance, so she grabbed her riding clothes and quickly donned them, including the sandals that Zareen had included. Being human didn't make her feel any more secure about the outcome of the draig battle going on overhead, but at least the gold would have no interest in her now. Unless he wanted to eat her for breakfast. She hugged herself, trembling, seeing that Vorst, hard as he fought, was clearly outmatched. "Litha," she began, preparing to beg the Goddess for help. She cut her words short. Wasn't she a witch? Didn't she have a draig pendant in that canvas bag? Merl the mage had felt power in that pendant. Litha would expect her to try to help herself before pleading for aid. Wilda scrambled for the bag, drew out the pendant and slipped the chain over her head. Then she grasped the pendant in her right hand, draig side up and focused her own power there, intoning the words that came into her mind: "By Litha's grace By this draig's face Lend strength to me From earth and sea To best the foe To make him go So may it be By earth and sea."

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The force surging into her made her stagger, struggling to control the unexpected surge of power as she left the cave. With immense effort she managed to focus it out and upward to aim at the gold draig. It took her scary minutes to master the force, but when she did, she braced herself, feet apart, on the ground in front of the cave and shot all the power she could muster at the gold draig. The effect was stunning. Gold dropped like a stone, fighting to save himself from a disabling or fatal plunge onto the ground. Before he hit, she let the power drain from her, fearing the backlash of dark magic if she allowed the draig to die. He righted himself, his golden eyes with their slit pupils fixed on her long enough so she understood he realized she was his nemesis. One he couldn't conquer. He flapped up into the sky, turned to face the sea and flew off. Vorst watched him until it was clear Gold wouldn't return, then landed and limped toward her. She longed to hug him, to wrap herself around him--impossible in her human form. Are you hurt? She asked. Minor cuts. Even the one on my leg isn't serious. Whatever you did stopped the fight before I was badly injured. Now we know this land has other draigs.. Just one. Icarus thought he was the last. When he spotted a beautiful white female in the sky… Vorst didn't finish. He didn't need to. So we've made an enemy. I'm not so sure. What was it you did to stop him? She held out the pendant. Your gift to me greatly increased my witch power. Blasted him out of the sky. Glad it didn't kill him. Wilda stared at Vorst and spoke aloud. "But he would have killed you!" Yes, over a female. A mate. I tried to tell him you'd changed back to human, but I don't think he understood. Remembering how the gold draig had looked at her before flying away, she sent, I think he believes it now. Perhaps. It's best you remain human for now. She didn't want to, but he was right. If Icarus came back looking for a female draig, he'd find none. The cave is a good one and safe. Vorst entered the opening and continued on inside. She followed him, picking up the canvas bag on the way, suddenly realizing her exhaustion. Zareen had also included a blanket. We need to sleep. Vorst sent. No argument there. She wrapped herself in the blanket and settled next to him, feeling his tail curl around her and wishing for more. Wishing she was still a draig, or that he was human. ***~*** Wilda stood high in a ruined tower beside the sea. The very air reeked of magic--and danger. Someone powerful hunted her. Not the draig Icarus. He slept far below in a sea cave next to the tower. A mage? She was far from safe where she

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stood, but she, too was hunting. Somewhere in these ruins was the Shaping Stone and she meant to find it. Suddenly a darkness not of nature crept up the stairs toward her. Unless she leaped from this height, she had no place to run to. Closer and closer the darkness came, black tentacles reaching toward her feet. She reached for her pendant, grasped it, waiting for the surge of power. None came… She woke abruptly, an unuttered scream in her throat. Though immediately realizing she lay in a cave with Vorst, not alone in that ruined tower, comfort evaded her. A true dream differed from a mere night dream and she knew this one was a true dream. She fumbled for her pendant and held it in her hand. At some future time she would stand in that tower and, powerless, face that hideous darkness… I dreamed. Vorst's mind send startled her. Unpleasantly. You needed me and I couldn't move, could not go to you, could not help you. I seemed to be in a ruined tower. Wilda reached out and touched his side, stroking the scales to assure herself they both were all right. Ah, your touch soothes me. She couldn't bring herself to speak of her dream in the ruined tower, as though talking about it would make it happen. Though it would anyway. Because now she knew the Shaping Stone was somewhere in that tower. As though reading her mind Vorst sent, You believe the Shaping Stone is in Onalee. Isn't it best not to search for it? But if we found it… She stopped. Would it turn Vorst human? Or, as Merl had hinted might happen, because he'd been created as a draig and perhaps could not be anything else, would he vanish as though he'd never been? The possibility made her feel ill. Vorst finished for her. If we find the Shaping Stone, you will try to make me human. I don't have to--I can be a draig again. Not in Onalee. Not while Icarus lives. He sensed your presence long before he saw you flying. He no longer senses a white draig, but if you change, he will. I think he sensed the human female he saw had changed her shape from the white draig. He's aware we're one and the same. Chapter 11 In the morning, Wilda decided they needed supplies. Vorst had left just before dawn to hunt for his meal, but since she was no longer a draig, she couldn't join him. When Zareen transferred everything from the basket to the bag, she hadn't forgotten the gold coins, so they had money to buy food. If she could find someone to sell it to her. She glanced at Vorst, sated and sleepy. You didn't happen to notice a market town when you flew back at dawn, did you? About two miles to the south.

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A long walk. Afoot, yes. Buy a harther and you can ride back. Maybe I'll do that. If I have to stay human, it'll make getting around easier. I can hardly appear in daylight riding on your back. At least not until we know more about Onalee's view of draigs. Icarus is very old, so he has survived here. I hope to learn more at the town. Be careful. ***~*** Wilda, empty canvas bag on her arm, set off to the south, soon finding a wellworn track she figured must lead to the market town. As she neared the place, she noted farms with substantial houses at intervals along both sides of the track. At one, a harther-pulled wagon jolted from a rutted lane onto the track ahead of her. The woman sitting next to her man on the seat, poked him and said something. He turned and saw her. "You're welcome to ride with us, lady," he said, "if you don't mind sitting on the back board." She didn't and was glad of her divided skirt when she scrambled up onto the back of the wagon, watched by the woman, years older than she, as was the man. "I'm called Wilda," she told them. "I'm grateful for the lift." "Gred's me name and me wife's Dowat. Don't recall seeing you in these parts afore." "I'm new in Onalee and hope to buy supplies at the market-town. What's it called?" "Burrwood. You see something you like, come find Dowat. She knows the bargains and the honest sellers." "You're most kind." "Burrwood's not a bad place, but there be scoundrels even there." Not so different from Mizpa in that way. "Would there be harthers for sale in town?" "Well, now, if you're looking to buy a frisky one, I can't help. But if you're willing to ride a older harther female, you could do worse than buying her from me on the way back. She's in good health, but getting past breeding, so she's extra-like, you see." "Gred's an honest seller," Dowat put in. He snorted. "She keeps me that way." When they entered the town, Wilda decided Burrwood didn't much differ from the market-towns in Ely where she'd grown up, and where she'd learned to barter and haggle. They pulled into a small grove of trees she couldn't name, but they had leaves not so much different than those of Tonapa. "This is where we park the wagon," Gred told her. "It'll be here when you're ready to go back.

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"Lady Wilda," Dowat said, "pay no mind to the young men. You being new and pretty, they's bound to flock around." It was a warning of sorts, which Wilda didn't mind. "I'm not in town to dawdle with men." "I can see that," Dowat told her. "But they might not." Thus prepared, when Wilda set off on her own to examine the produce, she set a small spell around her, one guaranteed to discourage male interest. She didn't want to be bothered with would-be swains, and it seemed a harmless enough thing to do. Surely no one in a backwater village like this would be able to sense magic. The sun had passed the zenith by the time Wilda headed back to the wagon, her bag bulging with supplies. Displayed on a table, a lady's woven hat with a brim and a red scarf tied around the crown caught her eye, and she stopped. The narrow-eyed woman behind the table said, "You will look very fine in this hat, lady." "Oh, I'm not so sure." Wilda kept any hint of interest from her voice. And so the bargaining began. When both women came to a point where they decided neither would budge from the last offer, Wilda nodded, and drew out three silver pieces she'd received in change from one of the gold coins, and took the hat. About to put it on, she sensed someone watching her. The market was crowded , and she'd known others had been staring at her during her shopping, but this was a different kind of observation, one that sent a chill along her spine. For some reason, the ruined tower flashed into her mind. As she donned the hat, she felt a light touch at the small of her back. She turned and saw a dwarf hurrying away through the crowd. She watched him go, aware he'd been the watcher. Had he also been the one who'd touched her? Why? For someone else? She frowned. Dwarves sometimes had certain powers. If he'd detected her keep-away spell, that might have intrigued him. But, as she continued on to the wagon, she felt more and more certain there was a connection to the dwarf and the fleeting vision she'd had of the ruined tower. Did someone live there? Surely the mage who'd taken the Shaping Stone from Asra all those years ago couldn’t still be alive. Even the most powerful of mages were not immortal. By the time she reached the wagon, she had all but convinced herself there was a definite connection between the dwarf, the ruined tower and the Shaping Stone. Why else would she have dreamed of the place? But the dream also warned of danger there. Riding back with Gred and Dowat, Wilda said as casually as she could manage, "When I rose at dawn the other morning, I imagined I saw a draig flying toward the sea. Was that possible? I thought there were no draigs in all this land." "Might be the truth, 'cept for the mage's old draig what dens in a sea cave," Gred said. "Never seen him meself, but they say he still lives. If 'tis true, he bothers no one, so no one cares." "Does that mean the mage has gone beyond?" Gred and Dowat looked at each other before he replied. "That's what they say."

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Dowat nodded. "Stands to reason he's got to be dead. If he still lived, his spirit couldn't haunt the old ruins what used to be his tower." The wind had picked up, making Wilda clutch as her wide-brimmed hat. "'Tis lovely, the hat," Dowat told her, "but not for riding." True enough. Wilda removed it, holding the hat in her lap, before she returned to what had caught her attention. "You speak of a haunted tower?" Gred scowled at his wife. "If ye believe in such." "Well, everyone says so," she retorted. "Whether I believe it or not," Wilda said, "would you tell me where these ruins might be so I can avoid the area?" Gred peered at her for a moment before saying. "A young lady like ye be oughta stick close to home." "Oh, tell her, Gred. You know groups of young ladies go on escorted excursions these days. "Twould be just like some young swain to take it in his head to scare the women by a trip there." "'Tis by the sea caves." He sounded grumpy. "Where the mage's draig may live if he is still alive?" Gred nodded. "I say no more." Understand she'd probed as far as he was going to get, she said, "Tell me more about this harther you're willing to sell me. What's her name?" "Punzel. Ye'll do no better for the price. She's sound, healthy and has a good heart." ***~*** Once they arrived at the farm, Wilda took to Punzel immediately, and the harther seemed to reciprocate. Gred threw in an old saddle, complete with saddlebags, and a sack of feed for the price he asked. Realizing she'd lose the hat if she put it back on for the ride back, and grateful for the reasonable price for Punzel, she offered the hat to Dowat. "Oh, 'tis too fancy for the likes of me." "Nonsense." Wilda placed the hat firmly on Dowat's head, accepted Gred's hand up onto the saddle and smiled down at them. "You've been kind to a stranger. May the Goddess bless you with good health and a bountiful crop." "Fortune be with ye, lady," Dowat said. Gred gave her a hard look. "I wish ye well, but see ye be careful, whatever ye do." Wilda rode off realizing she hadn't fooled Gred. When she reached the cave, she found Vorst just inside the entrance. Since she'd laid a calming spell on Punzel, the harther didn't go into a frenzy on seeing a draig. Vorst sent Punzel a series of mind images that came to Wilda as well, pictures showing the harther Vorst was a friend who would never harm her. That done, he moved farther back into the cave and she stabled Punzel just inside. Joining Vorst, she asked, Could you locate the cave where Icarus dens?

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I can sense him, yes. Why? I learned his cave is by the ruined tower where the old mage used to live. The tower I dreamed of. He wasn't asking, he knew. I imagine so, because I dreamed of it, too. Your dream told of danger as mine did? She hedged. In a way. So we've been warned to stay away. You're after the Shaping Stone, and you believe it's there, that's why you ask about Icarus' cave. Yes. She sighed. We need to find the Shaping Stone. This stone has become a quest for you. Yet you don't need it to change your shape. What if it ever becomes necessary to change yours? The couple I spoke to today told me no one is sure Icarus still lives and they don't bother about him, because he doesn't bother anyone. Which must mean he doesn't hunt for food among their livestock. There are sea creatures other than fish for him to feed on. The point is, you need food and I haven't seen any large wooded areas where wild life might be. If you hunt sea creatures, you're invading Icarus' territory. Will he allow that? No. Then what happens when you must hunt for meat? Will the people of Onalee then start hunting you? We will face that when the time comes. To go to this ruined tower when the two of us, human and draig, have dreamed of danger there is foolish. It's just as foolish to have to live with me a human and you a draig when we could have so much more. Because of Icarus I don't dare try to be a draig again. Vorst didn't respond. Instead he withdrew deeper into the cave. She stared after him, but didn't follow. As a draig, she enjoyed the dark quiet confines of caves, but as a human, she preferred fresh air and sunlight. Which draigs enjoyed as well, but not in a land where they might be hunted. She couldn't blame Vorst for not wanting to risk the Shaping Stone, if they ever found it. It frightened her to think that using it on Vorst might obliterate rather than change him. But she wanted the stone, she needed it in case the time came when he might die if she didn't try to change him. Leaving the cave, she found a small stream, hardly more than a rill, a short distance away, took off her sandals and waded in it. Refreshed, she wandered back, Punzle nickered softly when she came into the cave entrance. As she stroked the harther's muzzle, Wilda remembered the boots she'd bought in the market, which reminded her of the dwarf she'd seen there. Whatever he was up to, he hadn't followed her here, so she wouldn't worry about him. She found the boots and donned them, intending to take Punzel for a proper ride exploring the area around the cave. When she was ready, she led the harther into the sunlight and, using a nearby boulder, mounted her. Vorst was probably right. They should stay as safe as possible. She wouldn't stray far from the cave.

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Despite what she'd told herself, Wilda found herself heading westward, toward the sea. Bad idea. But when she tried to turn around, she was shocked to find she couldn't. Not because Punzel wouldn't obey, but because she couldn't give the harther any commands, nor use the reins to turn her. She was caught in a spell so subtle she hadn't felt it settle around her. She wracked her brain for a counter spell that might avert this one, but all she tried failed. Westward they continued, on and on. Toward the ruined tower, of course. That blasted dwarf had set this spell on her by touching her in the market. She tried to mind send to Vorst, but couldn't form either words or images to alert him. Chapter 12 Vorst woke suddenly, feeling something was amiss. He sent a mind call to Wilda. No answer. She always answered. He stomped to the cave entrance, seeing the harther was missing. She must have gone for a ride. But where? And why couldn't she answer his repeated calls? Because she would if she could. Who or what prevented her? The ruined tower flashed through his mind. Someone, something, had taken her there, taken her from him. How dare they? He roared his anger and defiance into the evening. Wilda was his love. He'd kill anyone who harmed her. Launching himself, he flew up into the darkening sky, again calling to her. Images built in his mind, but not from her. His roar had disturbed the sleeping Icarus and the golden draig demanded to know why. Vorst sent urgent images, showing Wilda as a human , showing she'd been taken from him, and where he thought she might be. Icarus sent back an image of a little animal Vorst couldn't at first understand, though he recognized it as a chameleon. When the golden draig imposed Wilda's image over the chameleon, it made sense. The chameleon changed color; Icarus knew Wilda also changed. The next image was of the ruined tower, showing that Icarus was blocked from going there and that he strongly urged Vorst to stay away from the place. His final image was of a shroud of blackness overlying the ruins. A sense of evil came through strongly. Vorst shrugged off Icarus' warning. Wilda was at the ruins, and he meant to get to her as quickly as he could fly there. If danger threatened her, she needed his help. Icarus had also indicated his cave was in the cliff below the tower. Since Vorst could clearly sense Icarus, he'd head there and find the tower with ease. I'm coming, he sent to Wilda, hoping his message would arrive even if she couldn't respond. As he flew toward the sea, he tried to imagine why the mage's draig had been barred from the ruins of the tower that had once housed the mage and now housed some kind of what he suspected must be inhuman evil. ***~***

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The closer the came to the ruins, the stronger the stench of wrongness, something Wilda felt rather than smelled. She slid off the harther, unwilling to place the animal into danger. Punzel promptly bolted back the way they'd come. Wilda didn't blame her. She would have stopped and turned tail if allowed to. But whatever drew her there still subverted her will and she trudged reluctantly on, clutching the pendant in her right hand, hoping to strengthen her power. Nothing like that happened. An image flitted across her mind of when she'd been about to leave Renz's tower, and he'd poured coins into her hand. Not only coins. Something that didn't come from this alien land, a gemstone from the planet of her birth, from Tonapa. Why did she keep it enclosed in silver from a land that was neither hers nor the gem's? Wilda fumbled with the catch on the pendant, opened it and let the amethyst drop into her waiting fingers. Closing the pendant and letting it hang free, she fisted her hand around the amethyst. Reaching the tumbled stones, she made her way among them toward the tower walls that still stood, perhaps ten feet high. As she came to a large opening in the wall where a door must once have been, Vorst's latest send blasted into her mind, telling her he was coming. Though she'd gotten all his messages, she couldn't send out so much as a single word, or even an image. Could he rescue her? She wanted to think his power as a draig could prevail over anything that menaced her here, but she knew better. Against evil, brute strength was useless. She wasn't able even to stop and wait for him to swoop down and carry her to safety. All she could do was obey the force that drew her through the opening and into what was left of the tower. Here the evil became almost tangible. With a shudder, she felt at any moment it might reach out to embrace her. Inside, next to her, remnants of a spiral stone staircase wound up along the wall and she found herself forced onto the first step, then the next. The stone of the steps was cracked and broken, so she pressed herself against the side of the wall, concentrating on not falling. Intent on her precarious climb, when the stone finally smoothed out under her feet, only then did she realize she was no longer in the ruins, but in an actual tower--what this one once must have been. And now again was. The fine hairs on her nape prickled with apprehension and dread. Whatever, whoever worked this magic had enormous power. Dark power. Its compulsion drove her on, up and up, until she reached a landing where a red door waited. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was reach for the latch that would open that door. "Great Goddess, protect your child," she whispered, as her hand went out of its own accord toward the latch. In the other she clenched the amethyst so tightly her fingernails dug into her skin. The door made no sound as it opened inward. Wilda stared into the dark void where the evil waited. Waited to embrace her. Despite her effort to hold a scream back, it slipped out, high and quavering. ***~***

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As the small moon rose, Vorst landed in a field of tumbled stones--the ruins. Ahead he made out the jagged outline of what remained of the tower. Wilda was nowhere in sight, but now he sensed her. Inside, then. He found the entrance gap was large enough for him to squeeze through. Broken steps rose against one wall, and, as he stared at them, they suddenly rose up and up along a wall that had been only a ruin moments before. He was far too large to try to climb the stairs. From somewhere up above, Wilda screamed. His loud, challenging roar echoed from the tower walls. He could do nothing trapped inside here, but once outside, even if he had to blast his way out, of the now changed enclosure, he could take to the air and… He couldn't move. Not so much as a claw. Trapped. He sent Icarus a frantic image. Icarus' message indicated he couldn't help. Or wouldn't. Vorst appealed to their kinship--the only two draigs in the land. Icarus remained silent for so long Vorst despaired. Finally an image came of flames eating through darkness, of fire cleansing evil. Then nothing. Experimenting, Vorst discovered he could still throw flame. The faint glow of his flame showed him wood and kindling stored against a wall. Hay next to it. Magic had reverted the tower to the way it once had been, with a base used for storage. He couldn't turn his head even slightly, but the hay was placed where, if he could shoot a flame far enough, he'd set it alight. But what then? If he couldn't move he'd perish in the resulting fire. And Wilda, somewhere up above, would also be doomed. ***~*** Wilda heard Vorst's roar and knew he waited below--but how could he save her? She hugged herself, fighting the horrible need to walk into the blackness and allow it to swallow her up. At last the warmth inside her fisted hand made her bring it near her face. When she opened her fist, amethyst light glowed from the gemstone she'd forgotten she held. The light sent rays into the waiting blackness, which retreated farther into the room beyond the open door. As it did so, her compulsion faded and she felt a surge of power that radiated from her in an amethyst glow. She caught up the radiance and thrust it in through the door, flinging the glow at the blackness. Farther and farther it retreated, until every vestige vanished. She heard the thud of stones outside and it came to her that the tower was falling, going back to ruin. The amethyst glow lighted her way as she retreated as fast as she dared down the steps before they disappeared and left her in midair. She sensed the stone crumbling beneath her feet and waited for a fall that never came. With relief she realized she'd reached the top of the ruined steps. Wilda! Vorst's send. I'm all right, she tried to send, and found she could.

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As she edged her way down the remaining steps, clinging to the wall with her free hand, under her fingers, something slid aside and her hand slipped into a hollow. Inside, she felt a smooth egg-shaped stone that sent a tingle through her. Power. She pulled it out, slipped it into a pocket and continued down. Once on floor of the tower, she saw the amethyst glow of Vorst's eyes. "All thanks to you, Gracious Goddess," she murmured. Moments later they were both outside, where she climbed onto this back and clung to him as he launched himself into the air. Neither mind sent until Vorst set down at their cave. As they entered, Punzel nickered in greeting. Wilda burst into tears. Sobbing she tried to explain to the worried Vorst that finding the harther had made her way back safely to the cave had sent her over the edge. She leaned against Vorst's side and he stroked her with his tail as she wiped her eyes. I wasn't really crying because she was safe, but because we came so close to such terrible evil that I feared neither of us would survive. If I had lost you, what happened to me wouldn’t matter. She stroked his side. I knew you'd come for me and got caught in the same evil. I didn't go there deliberately, the evil power drew me against my will. I've never experienced anything like that tower. Was it the ancient mage? I don't believe he lives. At least not in human form. Icarus told me he was blocked from the tower, so he couldn't come to help. Ah, then some part of the mage must have existed yet within the evil, enough to keep his draig safe. I have no idea why the amethyst freed us from that dreadful power. Icarus showed me fire would destroy the blackness. I thought he meant draig flame, but I knew that would kill us both. The fire within your gem worked its own spell. When Wilda started to push away from Vorst's side, sudden exhaustion staggered her. "Sleep," she said aloud. "I could sleep for days." But first she stored the amethyst inside the pendant once more. ***~*** They both woke when the sun sent slanting rays toward where she lay curled within Vorst's tail. Hunger drove them to sort through what remained of the supplies Wilda had brought from the market. I realize there isn't enough here for you, but I hate to see you risk hunting in daylight, she sent. He grinned at her and gently brushed a wayward strand of hair from her forehead. I won't starve right away. His touch made her sigh. She longed to cuddle within his embrace, but that was impossible as they were now. If only it were safe for her to try to change to a draig again. As though aware of her thoughts, he sent, As long as we're near Icarus, you'll have to stay human.

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He was right. If only she'd had the chance to look for the shaping stone… Her thought broke off as she remembered what she taken from the tower wall. Even though it wasn't the right shape for the Shaping Stone, it had some kind of power. Where was it? She plunged a hand into her pocket. Not there. Another pocket. Not there, either. "I lost it," she wailed. Lost what? Something I found in the tower. Nothing found there could be anything but evil. She frowned at him and said aloud, "You're wrong." As she ate, a half-recalled dream drifted across her mind. She'd been stretched out on a rocky bed, one stone cutting into her thigh. She'd fumbled around finally getting the hurting rock out from under her, and then… Wilda threw down the smoked fish she'd been eating and ran back to their sleeping quarters. Burrowing into her blanket, her hand closed around something smooth and oval. "Thank you, Litha," she whispered and ran back to Vorst, crying, "I found it! Look." She displayed the tan stone on the palm of her hand. He looked from what she held to her. The Shaping Stone. Her eyes widened. No, it can't be. The Asra castle journal described it as a six-pointed star. To hide the truth. How can you be sure? I sense what its power is. Wilda closed her hand around the egg-shaped stone and once again felt the tingle that meant power. But power didn't meant it was the Shaping Stone. That's not conclusive. I know what I know. Vorst lumbered out the cave entrance, launched himself and flew into the sky. Chapter 13 Wilda waited unhappily for his return. Why had Vorst flown off without a word? Where was he? What if those who saw him in sky grew alarmed? Word might travel to those who ruled Onalee and a search mounted. She stared at the smooth tan stone she held, still afraid to try to use its power in any way. He couldn't be right. This was egg-shaped, not a six-pointed star. But what if it really was the Shaping Stone… Vorst believed it was and that's why he'd fled. Anger mixed with her worry. Did he imagine she'd try to force a change on him? Use the Shaping Stone, if that's what this was, without his consent? He should realize she'd never do any such thing to someone she loved. Besides, if he loved her, he'd be willing to chance the Stone. Wilda drew her breath, ashamed of her last thought. Vorst had put himself in danger many times for her, willing to die to keep her safe. She knew he loved her, knew it down into the marrow of her bones. Her spurt of anger extinguished, she absently caressed the oval stone. "Goddess, keep me from ever harming him," she whispered.

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Her gaze drawn once more to what she held, Wilda studied the egg-shaped stone. Egg. And doesn't any egg change shape to something else? As the truth of this consumed her, a thrill ran along her spine. Vorst was right. She had found the Shaping Stone. ***~*** Vorst had never before felt fear for himself. Fear for others, yes, especially Wilda, the human who had taught him how to love another. In her draig form she'd become his mate, forging a bond never to be broken. Now that she was back in her human form, he loved her just as much, though there was no way for them to mate. But he was afraid of what she'd found in the evil ruins--the Shaping Stone. The moment she'd shown him that oval-shaped stone, he'd known it for what it was. She'd made no secret of why she'd wished to find it. She longed to make him human even after Merl the mage had warned that Vorst was a created draig, not a natural one, and so might not be able to change, might even cease to exist. Vorst spiraled up and up into the air as though flying higher and higher could ease his fear. He knew what it was to enjoy being alive, to eat, to fly, to sleep. He'd learned to love, the greatest feat of all for a living being. As a draig, he was almost immortal. But ceasing to exist meant the same as death and that frightened him. Vorst? Wilda's send felt tentative. Did she think he might not answer? Are you all right? Unable to lie, he couldn't say yes. I am in no danger, he finally sent. Not from me, anyway. Never. This is the Shaping Stone, just as you told me. I'm now going to hide it where it will never be found. I don’t dare keep the stone with me in case I might be tempted to try to change you. I want you alive, love. Nothing else matters. Instead of relief, sadness gripped him. And a sense of shame. Had he really felt she might cajole or force him to submit to that stone? No! You must wait for my return to make any decision about the Shaping Stone. Promise me. As he turned himself to fly back toward the cave, for the first time he became aware of the excitement below, humans pointing up at him, men rushing off on harthers. He didn't need to guess where they were going. A draig was welcome nowhere in this land. Soon there'd be archers and men with spears and swords hunting him. They tolerated Icarus because he'd been the mage's draig and they were afraid the mage, though dead, still kept watch over Icarus. They were right. But seeing a new draig, a green one who couldn't be confused with golden Icarus, was another matter. He found Wilda waiting outside the cave and landed near her. I was so worried about you. People might… He interrupted. People did. But that's not why I returned. Where is the Shaping Stone? She pointed back toward the cave. On my blanket. I'm going to hide it right now. No, bring it to me.

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Why? I'll tell you after I see the stone. Vorst could feel his heart thumping inside him as he waited for her to come back with the Shaping Stone. He didn't need the reminder that he was still afraid. Wilda emerged from the entrance, approaching slowly, her hands cradling the Shaping Stone. He pumped air into his lungs, releasing it with a great swoosh, and held out his clawed hand. Let me hold it. No, you mustn't. Give me the stone. I want you to stay as you are. I love you; I don't want to lose you. Give me the stone. But what if… Am I a mage with great power? No, I'm merely a draig. The stone, please. She bit her lip and he could tell what he'd said had influenced her thinking, exactly as he'd intended. Wilda would believe that, though she had power, he had none, and it would take power to use the Shaping Stone. Which meant to her that he'd be safe enough merely holding it. He watched her reluctantly hand over the Shaping Stone, having no idea how wrong she was. How small and insignificant it looked in his claws. Yet he could feel the thrum of power infiltrating him. He looked into her brown eyes, and her love for him shining there gave him the courage he needed to close his own and give himself over to the shimmering power invading him, telling the stone he wished to be a human male, but was ready to accept whatever happened. This was his gift of love to his mate. ***~*** Wilda bit back a scream when she saw Vorst dissolving before her eyes. She tried to run to him, but the stone's power kept her away. "Litha, please have mercy," she begged, as sobs clogged her throat. Merle had warned her this might happen, that Vorst would vanish completely. How could she bear to lose the only one she'd ever loved? She didn't want to watch, but she couldn't look away as his great bulk diminished, fading away, growing smaller and… Her hand flew to her mouth. No! It couldn't be! A naked human male stood before her. A green-skinned man with amethyst eyes. He held out his arms. Tears of joy streamed from her eyes as she ran to him. They held each other close for a long time, until she finally realized what was happening to him. Pulling away a little, she stared down at his evident desire for her. Does that mean what I think it does? he sent. She laughed, all trace of tears vanishing, took his hand and led him back into the cave. This was her first time to lie with a male, as well as Vorst's first time to mate as a human, but together they managed to sort it all out. Joined together they flew

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their first earthbound flight, no less wonderful than the one in the sky. Afterwards, he couldn't get enough of touching her here, there and everywhere. "Human hands have certain advantages," he murmured, stroking her breasts. Consumed with pleasure from his caresses, it took her a moment to react. "You spoke out loud!" "Yes, I did, didn't I?" He grinned at her. "Another first." Much later, as they bathed in the small nearby stream, she asked, "What became of the Shaping Stone?" "I felt it slip into nothingness as I changed. It’s gone." She sighed. "Then you can never be a draig again." "What, you don't like me as human?" "You're the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. No wonder, since you were also a magnificent draig. The only problem is that naked may be in fashion for draigs, but it isn’t for men." She wrapped her arms around him. "Litha has been good to me, to us." His enthusiastic response led to another session of love-making, slower, with more exploring of each other. She thought she could never get enough of joining with Vorst. Engrossing in one another they were blind to the world about them. When they were ready to leave, she dressed and hand in hand they started back. As they came in view of the cave, the sight of Icarus squatting before the entrance with a dwarf on his back stopped them cold. "No need to fear," the dwarf said, sliding off the draig's back. "I'm Drom. Icarus told me you were the two who released me from my bondage to the dark spirit in the ruins. I am most grateful." He held out a parcel. "Clothes for you, sir. I see Icarus was right when he said you'd need them. And I must admit I've never seen a green-skinned human." "You can speak to Icarus?" Vorst asked. "More or less. We've learned each other's imagery. He says his master's spirit, the mage's spirit, was also released from the dark and that pleased him very much." Vorst looked from Drom to the golden draig and back. "But how did he know I'd--changed?" Icarus snorted and images flooded into Wilda's mind as well as Vorst's, images of them mating as humans. Her face flushed. "Let's blame the Shaping Stone, not Icarus," Vorst suggested. "Draig's don't spy on humans. Don't forget I was a draig and must have projected images he caught as I changed to human. And afterward." Icarus showed his huge teeth in a draig smile. Remembering her manners, Wilda said, "I bear you no ill will, Drom. I know you were until a spell when you forced me to the ruins. She looked into the gold eyes of Icarus. "And thank you, great draig, for your kindness in realizing Vorst would need clothes."

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Drom nodded to her. "Icarus says Vorst is lucky to have found you for his mate." He scrambled up onto the back of the great golden draig. Icarus launched himself and flew toward the sea. Inside the cave, Wilda comforted the frightened harther as Vorst opened the parcel. When he held up the clothes for her to look at she blinked. "Mage clothes!" Which they were, robe and all. As she showed Vorst how to put them on, an idea came to her. "Maybe in giving you these clothes, which must have belonged to his master at one time, Icarus was also giving us a message. Since the evil is gone from the ruins, maybe he meant we should go there and rebuild the tower, with you as the mage." Struggling to pull a shirt over his head, Vorst mumbled, "I'm no mage. They have power." She helped him with the shirt, and then eyed him thoughtfully. "You said you felt the Shaping Stone dissolve as you changed. "Did you ever consider it may have dissolved into you?" He stared at her for a moment. "Who knows?" "Exactly. You haven't yet tested yourself. Besides, with your green skin, not to mention those unusual and beautiful amethyst eyes, everyone will believe you're some kind of wizard anyway." "I have to think about it. Right now I'm hungry." "All the food we have left needs a fire to cook." While Vorst, still bare-foot, unable to tolerate anything covering his feet, began to gather dried grass and sticks as the base for a fire, Wilda led the harther out to where grass grew so she could graze, tethering her to a tree. Returning to the cave for what was left of the food, she brought it to Vorst's ready-to-light fire. She watched in amazement as he opened his mouth and aimed at the fire. Didn't he realize he was no longer a draig? She was even more amazed when a thin flame shot out and set the kindling ablaze. "Great Goddess!" He grinned at her. "You told me to test myself. Evidently something of the draig remains." Later, as they ate, he said, "I don't think we have a choice if we remain in Onalee. I don't have fond memories of the ruins, but any danger has gone with the evil. I'll set up as a mage and we'll see what happens. After all, you are a witch, which will be a help." Images burst into their minds showing Icarus and Drom helping them rebuild a new, smaller, and much wider tower. Wilda smiled at Vorst. "Icarus has faith in our success. Since he was a mage's draig, how can he be wrong? " Vorst stopped eating, closed his eyes and dropped his head to his chest. A revelation? Wilda watched him, waiting. Some time later, he raised his head, opened his eyes and muttered, "Two boys, one with green skin, and a girl." "What are you talking about?"

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"I had a vision of a new tower rising from the ruins, with a dwelling attached, and our three children there. As a draig I never had a waking vision. You must be right about the Shaping Stone changing me in more ways than one." "Three children!" "Yes. The girl had hair like yours, but amethyst eyes." She stared at him, hardly able to believe all this would happen. Then a thought struck her and she giggled. "What?" "When I was a draig I worried I might have to lay eggs." He rose, pulled her to her feet and kissed her, long, hot and thoroughly, then murmured in her ear, "I love you in any form, but being human has certain advantages--like this one." He kissed her again. So much for any kiss King Kress had ever given her. Poor imitations, compared to the thrilling wonder love added to a kiss. Vorst was the love she'd waited all her life to find. Against all odds they'd not only come together, but her beautiful draig was now a gorgeous man. And all this came about because Renz had been accused of black sorcery. How strange life was. Then Vorst's kisses grew so hot she forgot everything else but him…